THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


SOPHOCLES 


SOPHOCLES 

TRAGEDIES 

AND 

FRAGMENTS 


Translated  by  the  lab 

E.  H.  PLUMPTRE  D.D. 

'Dean  of  Wtlli 


WITH  NOTES  RHYMED 
CHORAL  ODES  AND 
LYRICAL  DIALOGUES 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES 
VOL      I 


BOSTON    U.S.A. 
D.  C.   HEATH  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 

1914 


TO 

CONNOP   THIRLWALL,  D.D. 

LORD    BISHOP    OF    ST.    DAVID'S, 

AND 

TO    THE    MEMORY    OF 

JULIUS   CHARLES   HARE,   MA. 

FRIENDS  in  your  boyhood,  when  the  dawn  was  bright, 
Friends  in  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day, 
Friends  even  yet,  though  one  has  passed  away 

To  join  the  children  of  the  Lord  of  Light! 

Long  since  ye  roamed  each  vale,  and  climbed  each  height. 
Where  songs  of  Hellas  float  through  golden  grove, 
Or  from  the  hill  of  Capitolian  Jove, 

Tracked  the  young  stream  of  Rome's  imperial  might. 

Our  friend  and  brother  heareth  loftier  praise  ; 

But  thou,  kind  teacher,  speakest  to  us  still, 

And  wilt  not  scorn,  scant  offering  though  they  be, 

These  echoes  of  high  thoughts  of  ancient  days. 

Ah!  would  the  power  were  equal  with  the  will! 

Would  that  my  faltering  speech  were  worthier  thee  I 

LLANBILO,  August  a^M,  1865. 


2042146 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 


The  present  edition  of"  Sophocles "  is  uniform  with  the  late 
Dean  Tlumptrii  translation  of  jEschylos.  The  text  of  the 
second  edition,  which  was  carefully  revised  by  the  translator, 
has  been  followed,  and  the  Dean's  annotations  have  been 
included. 

In  translating  the  Choral  Odes  the  Dean  used  such 
unrhymed  metres  as  seemed  to  him  most  analogous  in  their 
general  rhythmical  effect  to  those  of  the  original,  but  in 
order  to  meet  a  freely  expressed  wish  he  added  a  rhymed 
version  of  the  Choral  Odes  and  chief  lyrical  dialogues  in  an 
appendix. 

The  brackets  [  ]  indicate  lines  which  are  looked  upon  by 
one  or  more  critics  of  repute  as  spurious,  and  an  asterisk  (*) 
the  more  prominent  passages  in  which  the  text  is  so  uncertain, 
or  the  construction  so  difficult,  that  the  rendering  must  be 
looked  upon  as,  at  best,  somewhat  doubtful.  The  numerals 
refer  to  the  Greek  text,  not  to  the  translation. 


CONTENTS 

Frontispiece — SOPHOCLES  :  From  the  bust  in  the 
Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence 

Pag-t 
CHRONOLOGICAL    OUTLINE    OF    THE    LIFE    OF 

SOPHOCLES    .         .         .         .         .         .  13 

CEmpus  THE  KING      .         .         .         .         .  17 

CEinpus  AT  COLONOS  .         •        •         i         e  73 

ANTIGONE  .         .         ,         •        •         •         •  '39 

ELECTKA     »••»•««  189 


CHRONOLOGICAL   OUTLINE   OF 
THE   LIFE    OF   SOPHOCLES 

B.C. 

525  Birth  of  ^Eschylos. 

510  Expulsion  of  the  Peisistratidae.     Democratic  con- 
stitution of  Cleisthenes. 
500  Birth  of  Anaxagoras. 
499  jEschylos  exhibits  his  first  tragedy. 
497  Death  of  Pythagoras  (?) 
495  Birth  of  Sophocles. 
490  Battle  of  Marathon. 
485  Xerxes  succeeds  Dareios. 

484  Birth  of  Herodotos.    ^Eschylos  gains  the  prize  In 
tragedy. 

480  Athens    taken    by    Xerxes.       Battle    of    Salamis. 
Sophocles  leads  the  chorus  of  victory. 

Birth  of  Euripides. 
479  Athens  taken  by  Mardonios. 
477  Commencement  of  Athenian  Supremacy. 
476  Bones  of  Theseus  discovered  in  Skyros, 
472  The  P(r$(e  of  /Eschylos. 


CHRONOLOGICAL   OUTLINE 

B.C. 

471  Birth  of  Thucydides. 

468  Sophocles  gains  his  first  victory  in  tragedy.  The 
Triptolemos. 

Birth  of  Socrates. 

467  Death  of  Simonides. 
466  Battle  of  Eurymedon. 

461  Ostracism  of  Kimon.  Ascendancy  of  Pericles. 
The  Oresieian  Trilogy  of  .flJschylos. 

456  Death  of  ^Eschylos.  Herodotos  recites  his  history 
at  the  Olympian  Games  (?) 

455  Euripides  appears  as  a  writer  of  tragedies. 

450  Anaxagoras  retires  from  Athens  after  a  residence  of 
thirty  years. 

448  Sacred  war  between  Delphiaus  and  Phocians. 
441  Euripides  gains  the  first  prize. 

440  Sophocles  exhibits  the  Antigone,  and  is  made  one  of 
the  ten  Athenian  generals  in  the  war  with  Samos. 
Meets  Herodotos  at  Samos. 

439  Sophocles  returns  to  Athens. 

432  Prosecution  of  Anaxagoras,  Aspasia,  and  Pheidias. 

431  Commencement  of  the  Peloponnesian  War. 

430  Plague  at  Athens.  (Edipus  the  King  (?)  CEdipus  at 
Colonos  (?) 

429  Birth  of  Plato. 

428  Death  of  Anaxagoras. 

427  Ascendency  of  Cleon.  Aristophanes  gains  his  first 
prise  for  comedy. 


CHRONOLOGICAL   OUTLINE 

B.C. 

424  The  Knights  of  Aristophanes. 

423  The  Clouds  of  Aristophanes. 

421  Peace  of  Nikias. 

419  The  Peace  of  Aristophanes. 

416  Tragic  prize  gained  by  Agathon. 

415  Tragic  prize  gained  byArchippos.  Sicilian  Expedi- 
tion. Mutilation  of  the  Hermae  busts.  Banishment 
of  Alkibiades. 

413  Destruction  of  Athenian  army  and  fleet  in  Sicily. 
Sophocles  appointed  as  member  of  constituent 
committee  — 


411  Revolution  at  Athens.  Council  of  the  Four 
Hundred.  Sophocles  assents.  Recall  of  Alki- 
biades. 

409  The  Philoctetes  of  Sophocles. 

406  Battle  of  Arginusae. 

Death  of  Euripides. 
Death  of  Sophocles. 

401  The  (Edipus  at  Colonos  reproduced  (?)  by  the  younger 
Sophocles. 


CEDIPUS   THE   KING 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

CEDIPUS,  King  of  Thebes.  Messenger  from  Corinth. 

CREON,  brother  of  ]oc\ST A..  Shepherd. 

TEIRESIAS,  a  soothsayer.  Second  Messenger. 

Priest  of  ZEUS.  JOCASTA  ,  wife  of  CEDIPUS. 

Ciiorus  of  Priests  and  Suppliants. 

ARGUMENT. — Laics,  King  of  Thebes,  married  Jocasta, 
daughter  of  Menaekeus,  and  they  had  no  child.  And  he, 
grieved  thereat,  sought  counsel  of  the  God  at  Delphi,  and  the 
God  bade  him  cease  to  wish  for  children,  for  should  a  son  be 
born  to  him,  by  that  son  he  should  surely  die.1  And  then  it 
came  to  pass  that  Jocasta  bare  him  a  son.  And  they,  fearing 
the  God's  word,  gave  the  boy  to  a  shepherd,  that  he  miglit 
cast  it  out  upon  the  hill  Kithceron  ;  and  so  they  were  com- 
forted, and  deemed  that  they  by  this  device  had  turned  the 
oracle  into  a  thing  of  nought.  And  thirty  years  afterwards, 
when  Laios  was  well  stricken  in  years,  he  went  again  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Delphi;  and  thence  he  never  came  back  again, 
— slain  on  the  n'ay,  men  knew  not  by  whose  hands.  And  at 

1  THE  ORACLE  TO  LAIOS. 

Laios,  Labdacos'  son,  thou  askest  for  birth  of  fair  offspring ; 
Lo  !  I  will  give  thee  a  son,  but  know  that  Destiny  orders 
That  thou  by  the  boy's  hand  must  die,  for  so  to  the  curses  of  Pelops, 
Whom  of  his  son  thou  hast  robbed,  Zeus,  son  of  Kronos,  hath 

granted, 

And  he,  in  his  trouble  of  heart,  called  all  this  sorrow  upon  (hoc. 
I  17  B 


CED1PUS   THE    KING 

that  time  ike  Sphinx  made  havoc  of  Thebes  and  all  the  coasts 
thereof,  so  that  they  had  no  heart  nor  power  to  search  into  the 
matter  of  the  king's  death,  but  sought  only  for  some  one  to 
answer  the  monster's  riddle,1  and  save  the  city  and  its  people. 
And  a  stranger  came  to  the  city,  (Edipus  of  Corinth,  son,  as 
it  was  said,  of  Polybos  and  Merope,  and  answered  the  riddle 
aright?  and  slew  the  Sphinx.  A  nd  then  the  people  of  the  city 
in  their  joy  chose  (Edipus  as  their  king,  in  the  room  of  Laios, 
who  had  been  slain ;  and  Jocasta  took  him  as  her  husband, 
and  Creon,  Jocasta's  brother,  was  his  chief  friend  and  conn' 
sellor,  and  all  tilings  prospered  with  him,  and  he  had  tu<o 
sons  and  two  daughters.  But  soon  the  wrath  of  God  fell 
upon  Thebes,  and  the  city  was  visited  with  a  sore  pestilence ; 
and  the  people  turned  in  their  affliction  to  their  Gods,  and 
made  their  supplications.3 

1  THE  RIDDLE   OF  THE  SPHINX. 

There  lives  upon  earth  a  being,  two-footed,  yea,  and  with  four  feet, 
Yea,  and  with  three  feet,  too,  yet  his  voice  continues  unchanging  ; 
And,  lo  '  of  all  things  that  move  in  earth,  in  heaven,  or  in  ocean, 
He  only  chant;  es  his  nature,  and  yet  when  on  most  feet  he  walketh, 
Then  is  the  speed  of  his  limbs  most  weak  and  utterly  powerless. 

8  ANSWER   OF  CEDIPUS. 

Hear    thou    against    thy    will,    thou    dark- winged    Muse  oi    the 

slaughtered, 

Hear  from  my  lips  the  end,  bringing  a  close  to  thy  crime  : 
Man  is  it  thou  hast  described,  who,  when  on  earth  he  appeareth, 
First  as  a  babe  from  the  womb,  four-footed  creeps  on  his  way, 
Then  when  old  age  cometh  on,  and  the  burden  of  years  weighs  full 

heavy, 
Bending  his  shoulders  and  neck,  as  a  third  foot  useth  his  staff. 

*  The  starting-point  of  the  cycle  of  CEdipus'  legends  is  found  in 
the  Odyssey,  xi.  271,  where  Odysseus  describes  the  spectres  that  he 
saw  in  Hades  : — 

"  And  there  I  looked  on  Epicasta's  form, 
Mother  of  CEdipus,  who,  knowing  not, 
Wrought  greatest  guilt,  her  own  son  marrying  : 
And  he  his  father  slew,  and  married  her. 
But  soon  the  Gods  disclosed  it  all  to  men, 
And  he,  with  many  woes,  in  Thebes  beloved, 
18 


(EDI  PUS  THE.  KING 

Through  fatf  ful  counsels  of  th»  Gods,  ruled  long 
O'er  the  Cadmeians.     bhe,  with  woe  outworn, 
To  Hades  went,  strong  warder  of  the  dead, 
A  long  noose  letting  down  from  lofty  roof. 
And  many  a  woe  she  left  behind  to  him, 
Which  the  Erinnyes  of  his  mother  work. " 

With  this  it  will  be  interesting  to  compare  Pindar,  Olymp.,  ii. 
35-42 : — 

"  So  Destiny,  who  keeps  of  olden  time 
The  goodly  fortune  of  an  honoured  race, 
With  prosperous  years  from  God, 
Leads  it  another  while 
Backward  to  bale  and  woe  ; 
E'en  when  the  fateful  son  of  Laios  killed 
The  father  whom  he  met, 
And  so  fulfilled 

The  Oracle  in  Pyiho  given  of  old, 
And  seeing  it,  she  slew, 
Erinnyes,  clear  of  sight, 
The  warrior  race,  with  fratricidal  hand." 

^Eschylos  (B.C.  471)  had  made  it  the  subject  of  a  Trilogy,  tracing 
the  working  of  the  curse  in  Laios,  CEdipus,  the  Seven  against  Thebes, 
of  which  only  the  last  is  extant. 

The  date  of  composition  is  uncertain.  Hypotheses  which  con- 
nect the  description  of  the  plague  at  Thebes  with  that  at  Athens  in 
B.C.  429,  or  the  protests  against  impiety  with  the  mutilation  of  the 
Henna;  in  B.C.  415,  are  at  best  uncertain. 


CEDIPUS    THE    KING 

SCENE. — THEBES.  In  the  background,  the  palace  of  CEniPus  ;  in  front, 
the  altar  of  ZEUS,  Priests  and  Boys  round  it  in  the  attitude  of 
suppliants,  -with  oli-vc  and  laurel  branches  in  their  hands,  enfwincd 
'with  "woclien  threads. 

Enter  CEnipus. 

(Edip.  Why  sit  ye  here,  my  children,  youngest  brood 
Of  Cadmos  famed  of  old,  in  solemn  state, 
Your  hands  thus  wreathed  with  the  suppliants'  boughs  f 
And  all  the  city  reeks  with  incense  smoke, 
And  all  re-echoes  with  your  hymns  and  groans  ; 
And  I,  my  children,  counting  it  unmeet 
To  hear  report  from  others,  I  have  come 
Myself,  whom  all  name  CEdipus  the  Great. — 
Do  thou,  then,  aged  Sire,  since  thine  the  right 
To  speak  for  these,  tell  clearly  how  ye  stand, 
In  terror  or  submission  ;  speak  to  me 
As  willing  helper.     Heartless  should  I  be 
To  see  you  prostrate  thus,  and  feel  no  ruth. 

Priest.  Yea,  CEdipus,  thou  ruler  of  my  land, 
Thou  seest  our  age,  who  sit  as  suppliants,  bowed 
Around  thine  altars  ;  some  as  yet  too  weak 
For  distant  flight,  and  some  weighed  down  with  age, 
Priest,  I,  of  Zeus,  and  these  the  chosen  youth  : 
And  in  the  market-places  of  the  town 
The  people  sit  and  wail,  with  wreath  in  hand, 
By  the  two  shrines  of  Pallas,1  or  the  grave, 

*  These  numerals  refer  to  the  Greek  text,  not  to  the  translation. 
i  Probably,  as  at  Athens  Athena  had  two  temples  as  Polias  and 
M 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Where  still  the  seer  Ismenos  prophesies, 

For  this  our  city,  as  thine  eyes  may  see, 

Is  sorely  tempest-tossed,  nor  lifts  its  head 

From  out  the  surging  sea  of  blood-flecked  waves, 

All  smitten  in  the  ripening  blooms  of  earth, 

All  smitten  in  the  herds  that  graze  the  fields, 

Yea,  and  in  timeless  births  of  woman's  fruit ; 

And  still  the  God,  fire-darting  Pestilence, 

As  deadliest  foe,  upon  our  city  swoops, 

And  desolates  the  home  where  Cadmos  dwelt, 

And  Hades  dark  grows  rich  in  sighs  and  groans. 

It  is  not  that  we  deem  of  thee  as  one 

Equalled  with  Gods  in  power,  that  we  sit  here, 

These  little  ones  and  I,  as  suppliants  prone  ; 

But,  judging  thee,  in  all  life's  shifting  scenes, 

Chiefest  of  men,  yea,  and  of  chiefest  skill 

In  communings  with  Heaven.     For  thou  did'st  come 

And  freed'st  this  city,  named  of  Cadmos  old, 

From  the  sad  tribute  which  of  yore  we  paid 

To  that  stern  songstress,1  all  untaught  of  us, 

And  all  unprompted  ;  but  by  gift  of  God, 

Men  think  and  say,  thou  did'st  our  life  upraise. 

And  now,  dear  CEdipus,  most  honoured  lord, 

We  pray  thee,  we  thy  suppliants,  find  for  us 

Some  succour,  whether  voice  of  any  God, 

Or  any  man  brings  knowledge  to  thy  soul  ; 

For  still  I  see,  with  those  whom  life  has  trained 

To  long-tried  skill,  the  issues  of  their  thoughts 

Live  and  are  mighty.     Come  then,  noblest  one, 

Raise  up  our  city  ;  come,  take  heed  to  it  ; 

As  yet  this  land,  for  all  thy  former  zeal, 

Calls  thee  its  saviour  :  do  not  give  us  cause 

Parthenos,  so  also  at  Thebes  there  were  two  shrines  dedicated  to 
her  under  different  names,  as  Onkaea  and  Isinenia. 

1  The  tribute  of  human  victims  paid  to  the  Sphinx,  the  "  Mus^ 
of  the  slaughtered,"  till  her  riddle  was  solved  by  CEdipus. 

M 


CEDIPUS  THE   KIN G 

So  to  remember  this  thy  reign,  as  men 

Who  having  risen,  then  fall  low  again  ; 

But  raise  our  state  to  safety.     Omens  good 

Were  then  with  thee  ;  thou  did'st  thy  work,  and  now 

Be  equal  to  thyself!     If  thou  wilt  rule, 

As  thou  dost  sway,  this  land  wherein  we  dwell, 

'Twere  better  far  to  rule  o'er  living  men 

Than  o'er  a  realm  dispeopled.     Nought  avails, 

Or  tower  or  ship,  when  men  are  not  within. 

(Edip.  O  children,  wailing  loud,  ye  come  with  wish 
Well-known,  not  unknown  ;  well  I  know  that  ye 
Are  smitten,  one  and  all,  with  taint  of  plague, 
And  yet  though  smitten,  none  that  taint  of  plague 
Feels,  as  I  feel  it.     Each  his  burden  bears, 
His  own  and  not  another's ;  but  my  heart 
Mourns  for  the  state,  for  you,  and  for  myself ; 
And,  lo,  ye  wake  me  not  as  plunged  in  sleep, 
But  find  me  weeping,  weeping  many  tears, 
And  treading  many  paths  in  wandering  thought  ; 
And  that  one  way  of  health  I,  seeking,  found, 
This  have  I  acted  on.     Menoekeus'  son, 
Creon,  my  kinsman,  have  I  sent  to  seek 
The  Pythian  home  of  Phcebos,  there  to  learn 
The  words  or  deeds  wherewith  to  save  the  state  ; 
And  even  now  I  measure  o'er  the  time, 
And  ask,  "  How  fares  he  ?  "  grieving,  for  he  stays, 
Most  strangely,  far  beyond  the  appointed  day  ; 
But  when  he  comes,  I  should  be  base  indeed, 
Failing  to  do  whate'er  the  God  declares. 

Priest.  Well  hast  thou  spoken  1     And  these  bring  me 

word, 
That  Creon  comes  advancing  on  his  way. 

GLdip.  O  king  Apollo,  may  he  come  with  chance       *° 
That  brings  deliverance,  as  his  looks  are  bright. 

Priest.    If  one  may  guess,   he's  glad.       He  had  not 
come 

*3 


(EDIPUS  THE   KING 

Crowned  with  rich  wreaths1  of  fruitful  laurel  else. 

(Edip.  Soon  we  shall  know.     Our  voice  can  reach  him 

now. 

Say,  prince,  our  well-beloved,  Mencekeus'  son, 
What  sacred  answer  bring'st  thou  from  the  God  ? 

Enter  CREON. 

Creon.  A  right  good  answer  !      E'en  our  evil  plight, 
If  all  goes  well,  may  end  in  highest  good. 

(Edip.  What  were    the  words  ?      Nor    full  of  eager 

hope, 
Nor  trembling  panic,  list  I  to  thy  speech.  *° 

Creon.  I,  if  thou  wish,  am  ready,  these  being  by, 
To  tell  thee  all,  or  go  within  the  gates. 

(Edip.  Speak  out  to  all.     I  sorrow  more  for  them 
Than  for  the  woe  which  touches  me  alone. 

Creon.  I  then  will  speak  what  from  the  God  I  heard  : 
King  Phcebos  bids  us  chase  the  plague  away 
(The  words  were  plain)  now  cleaving  to  our  land, 
Nor  cherish  guilt  which  still  remains  unhealed. 

(Edip.  But  with  what  rites  ?    And  what  the  deed  itself? 

Creon.  Or  drive  far  off,  or  blood  for  blood  repay  ;     10° 
That  guilt  of  blood  is  blasting  all  the  state. 

(Edip.  But  whose  fate  is  it  that  He  pointeth  to  ? 

Creon.  Once,O  my  king,  ere  thou  did'st  guide  our  state, 
Our  sovereign  Laios  ruled  o'er  all  the  land. 

(Edip.  So  have  I  heard,  for  him  I  never  saw. 

Creon.  Now  the  God  clearly  bids  us,  he  being  dead, 
To  take  revenge  on  those  who  shed  his  blood. 

(Edip.  Yes ;  but  where  are  they  ?     How  to  track  the 

course 
Of  guilt  all  shrouded  in  the  doubtful  past  ? 

Creon.  In  this  our  land,  so  said  He  ;  those  who  seek  no 
Shall  find  ;  unsought,  we  lose  it  utterly. 

1  Creon,  coming  from  Delphi,  wears  a  wreath  of  the  Parnassian 
laurel,  its  red  berries  mingling  with  the  dark,  glossy  leaves. 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

(Edip.  Was  it  at  home,  or  in  the  field,  or  else 
In  some  strange  land  that  Laios  met  his  doom  ? 

Creon.  He  went,  so  spake  he,  pilgrim-wise  afar, 
And  never  more  came  back  as  forth  he  went. 

(Edip.  Was  there  no  courier,  none  who  shared  his  road, 
Who  knew  what,  learning,  one  might  turn  to  good  ? 

Creon.  Dead  were  they  all,  save  one  who  fled  for  fear, 
And  he  knew  nought  to  tell  but  one  small  fact. 

(Edip.  {Interrupting.]  And  what  was  that  ?     One   fact 

might  teach  us  much, 
Had  we  but  one  small  starting-point  of  hope. 

Creon.  He  used  to  tell  that  robbers  fell  on  him, 
Not  man  for  man,  but  with  outnumbering  force. 

(Edip.  How  could  the  robber  e'er  have  dared  this  deed, 
Unless  some  bribe  from  hence  had  tempted  him  ? 

Creon.  So  men  might  think ;  but  Laios  having  died, 
There  was  no  helper  for  us  in  our  ills. 

(EJip.  What  ill  then  hindered,  when  your  sovereignty 
Had  fallen  thus,  from  searching  out  the  truth  ? 

Creon.  The  Sphinx,  with  her  dark  riddle,  bade  us  look 
At  nearer  facts,  and  leave  the  dim  obscure. 

(Edip.  Well,  be  it  mine  to  track  them  to  their  source.  13° 
Right  well  hath  Phcebos,  and  right  well  hast  thou, 
Shown  for  the  dead  your  care,  and  ye  shall  find, 
As  is  most  meet,  in  me  a  helper  true, 
Aiding  at  once  my  country  and  the  God. 
It  is  not  for  the  sake  of  friends  remote, 
But  for  mine  own,  that  I  dispel  this  pest ; 
For  he  that  slew  him,  whosoe'er  he  be, 
Will  wish,  perchance,  with  such  a  blow  to  smite 
Me  also.     Helping  him,  I  help  myself. 
And  now,  my  children,  rise  with  utmost  speed 
From  off  these  steps,  and  raise  your  suppliant  boughs  ; 
And  let  another  call  my  people  here, 
The  race  of  Cadmos,  and  make  known  that  I 
Will  do  my  taskwork  to  the  uttermost ; 


OEDIPUS  THE   KING 

So,  as  God  wills,  we  prosper,  or  we  fail. 

Priest.  Rise  then,  my  children,  'twas  for  this  we  came, 
For  these  good  tidings  which  those  lips  have  brought, 
And  Phoebos,  who  hath  sent  these  oracles, 
Pray  that  He  come  to  save,  and  heal  our  plague.  )M 

[Exeunt  CREON,  Priest,  and  Suppliants,  the 
fatter  taking  their  boughs  from  the  altar  and 
bearing  them  as  t':ey  march  in  procession. 

Enter  Chorus  o/~Theban  Citizens. 

STROPHE  I 
Chor.  O  word  of  Zeus,1  glad-voiced,  with  what  intent 

From  Pytho,  bright  with  gold, 
Cam'st  thou  to  Thebes,  our  city  of  high  fame  ? 

For  lo  !  I  faint  for  fear, 
Through  all  my  soul  I  quiver  in  suspense, 
(Hear,  lo  Paean  !  God  of  Delos,2  hear  !) 
In  brooding  dread,  what  doom,  of  present  growth, 
Or  as  the  months  roll  on,  thy  hand  will  work  ; 
Tell  me,  O  deathless  Voice,  thou  child  of  golden  hope ! 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
Thee  first,  Zeus-born  Athena,  thee  I  call, 

Divine  and  deathless  One, 
And  next  thy  sister,  Goddess  of  our  land, 

Our  Artemis,  who  sits, 
Queen  of  our  market,  on  encircled  throne; 
And  Phcebos,  the  far-darter !     O  ye  Three,* 
Shine  on  us,  and  deliver  us  from  ill  ! 
If  e'er  before,  when  storms  of  woe  oppressed, 

1  The  oracle,  though  given  by  Apollo,  is  yet  the  voice  of  Zeus,  of 
whom  Apollo  is  but  the  prophet,  spokesman. 

2  Apollo,  born   in  Delos,  passed  through  Attica  to  Pytho,  his 
shrine  at  Delphi. 

3  The  Three  named —Athena,  Artemis,  Phoebos — were  the  guar- 
dian drities  ol  Thebes  ;  but  the   tendency   to   bring   three  names 
together  in  one  group  in  oaths  and  invocations  runs  through  Greek 
worship  generally. 


OEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Ye  stayed  the  fiery  tide,  O  come  and  help  us  now  .' 

STROPHE  II 
Ah  me,  ah  me,  for  sorrows  numberless 

Press  on  my  soul  ; 
And  all  the  host  is  smitten,  and  our  thoughts  no 

Lack  weapons  to  resist. 
For  increase  fails  of  fruits  of  goodly  earth, 
And  women  sink  in  childbirth's  wailing  pangs, 

And  one  by  one,  as  flit 

The  swift-winged  birds  through  air, 
So,  flitting  to  the  shore  of  Him  who  dwells 

Down  in  the  darkling  West,1 

Fleeter  than  mightiest  fire, 

Thou  see'st  them  passing  on. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
Yea,  numberless  are  they  who  perish  thus  ; 

And  on  the  earth, 
Still  breeding  plague,  unpitied  infants  lie, 

Cast  out  all  ruthlessly  ;  18° 

And  wives  and  mothers,  grey  with  hoary  age, 
Some  here,  some  there,  by  every  altar  mourn, 

With  woe  and  sorrow  crushed, 

And  chant  their  wailing  plaint. 
Clear  thrills  the  sense  their  solemn  Paean  cry, 

And  the  sad  anthem  song  ; 

Hear,  golden  child  of  Zeus, 

And  send  us  bright-eyed  help. 

STROPHE  III 
And  Ares  the  destroyer  drive  away  ! ' 

1  Pluto,  dwelling  where  the  sun  sinks  into  darkness.  The  sym- 
bolism of  the  West  as  the  region  of  dead  and  evil,  of  the  East  as 
that  of  light  and  truth,  belongs  to  the  earliest  parables  of  nature. 

a  The  Pestilence,  previously  (v.  27)  personified,  is  now  idt-ntified 
with  Ares,  the  God  of  slaughter,  and,  as  such,  the  foe  of  the  more 
benign  deities. 

*7 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Who  now,  though  hushed  the  din  lv> 

Of  brazen  shield  and  spear, 

With  fiercest  battle-cry 

Wars  on  me  mightily. 

Bid  him  go  back  in  flight, 

Retreat  from  this  our  land, 

Or  to  the  ocean  bed, 

Where  Amphitrite  sleeps, 
Or  to  that  haven  of  the  homeless  sea 

Which  sweeps  the  Thracian  shore.1 

*If  waning  night  spares  aught, 

That  doth  the  day  assail  : 

Do  thou,  then,  Sire  almighty, 

Wielding  the  lightning's  strength, 
Blast  him  with  thy  dread  fiery  thunderbolts. 

ANTISTROPHE  III 
And  thou,  Lykeian  king,  the  wolfs  dread  foe, 

Fain  would  I  see  thy  darts 

From  out  thy  golden  bow 

Go  forth  invincible, 

Helping  and  bringing  aid  ; 

And  with  them,  winged  with  fire, 

The  rays  of  Artemis, 

With  which  on  Lykian  hills, 

She  moveth  on  her  course. 
And  last,  O  golden-crowned,  I  call  on  thee, 

Named  after  this  our  land,2 

Bacchos,  all  flushed  with  wine, 

With  clamour  loud  and  long, 

Wandering  with  Maenads  wild, 

l  The  Chorus  prays  that  the  pestilence  may  be  driven  either  to 
the  far  western  ocean,  beyond  the  pillars  of  Heracles,  the  couch  of 
Amphitrite,  the  bride  of  Neptune,  or  to  the  northern  coasts  of  the 
Euxine,  where  Ares  was  worshipped  as  the  special  God  of  the 
Thracians. 

8  Bacchos,  as  born  in  Thebes,  was  known  as  the  Cadmeian  king, 
the  Boeotian  God,  while  Thebes  took  from  him  the  epithet  Bacchia. 
•I 


CEDIPUS  THE  KING 

Flashing  with  blazing  torch, 

Draw  near  against  the  God  whom  all  the  Gods  disown.1 
(Edip.  Thou  prayest,  and  for  thy  prayers,  if  thou  wilt 

hear 

My  words,  and  treat  the  dire  disease  with  skill, 
Thou  shalt  find  help  and  respite  from  thy  pain, — • 
My  words,  which  I,  a  stranger  to  report, 
A  stranger  to  the  deed,  will  now  declare  : 
For  I  myself  should  fail  to  track  it  far, 
Finding  no  trace  to  guide  my  steps  aright. 
But  now,  as  I  have  joined  you  since  the  deed, 
A  citizen  with  citizens,  I  speak 
To  all  the  sons  of  Cadmos.     Lives  there  one 
Who  knows  of  Laios,  son  of  Labdacos, 
The  hand  that  slew  him ;  him  I  bid  to  tell 
His  tale  to  me  ;  and  should  it  chance  he  shrinks 
From  raking  up  the  charge  against  himself, 
Still  let  him  speak  ;  no  heavier  doom  is  his 
Than  to  depart  uninjured  from  the  land  ; 
Or,  if  there  be  that  knows  an  alien  arm  **> 

As  guilty,  let  him  hold  his  peace  no  more  ; 
I  will  secure  his  gain  and  thanks  beside. 
But  if  ye  hold  your  peace,  if  one  through  fear, 
Or  for  himself,  or  friend,  shall  hide  this  thing, 
What  then  1  purpose  let  him  hear  from  me 
That  man  I  banish,  whosoe'er  he  be, 
From  out  this  land  whose  power  and  throne  are  mine  ; 
And  none  may  give  him  shelter,  none  speak  to  him, 
Nor  join  with  him  in  prayers  and  sacrifice, 
Nor  give  him  share  in  holy  lustral  stream  ; 
But  all  shall  thrust  him  from  their  homes,  declared 
Our  curse  and  our  pollution,  as  but  now 
The  Pythian  God's  prophetic  word  has  shown  : 
With  acts  like  this,  I  stand  before  you  here, 

1  So,  in  the  Iliad,  Ares  is,  of  all  the  Gods  of  Olympos,  most 
hateful  to  Zeus  (v.  890),  as  the  cause  of  all  strife  and  slaughter. 
29 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

A  helper  to  the  God  and  to  the  dead. 

All  this  I  charge  you  do,  for  mine  own  sake,1 

And  for  the  God's,  and  for  this  land  that  pines, 

Barren  and  god-deserted.     Wrong  'twould  be 

E'en  if  no  voice  from  heaven  had  urged  us  on, 

That  ye  should  leave  the  stain  of  guilt  uncleansed,        *90 

Your  noblest  chief,  your  king  himself,  being  slain. 

Yea,  rather,  seek  and  find.     And  since  I  reign, 

Wielding  the  might  his  hand  did  wield  before, 

Filling  his  couch,  and  calling  his  wife  mine, 

Yea,  and  our  offspring  too,  but  for  the  fate 

That  fell  on  his,  had  grown  in  brotherhood  ; 

But  now  an  evil  chance  on  his  head  swooped  ; 

And  therefore  will  I  strive  my  best  for  him, 

As  for  my  father,  and  will  go  all  lengths 

To  seek  and  find  the  murderer,  him  who  slew 

The  son  of  Labdacos,  and  Polydore, 

And  earlier  Cadmos,  and  Agenor  old;2 

And  for  all  those  who  hearken  not,  I  pray 

The  Gods  to  give  them  neither  fruit  of  earth, 

Nor  seed  of  woman,8  but  consume  their  lives 

With  this  dire  plague,  or  evil  worse  than  this. 

And  for  the  man  who  did  the  guilty  deed, 

Whether  alone  he  lurks,  or  leagued  with  more, 

I  pray  that  he  may  waste  his  life  away, 

For  vile  deeds,  vilely  dying  ;  and  for  me, 

If  in  my  house,  I  knowing  it,  he  dwells, 

May  every  curse  I  spake  on  my  head  fall. 

And  you,  the  rest,  the  men  from  Cadmos  sprung, 

To  whom  these  words  approve  themselves  as  good, 

May  Righteousness  befriend  you,  and  the  Gods, 

1  I  follow  Schneidewin's  arrangement   of  this   portion   of   the 
speech. 

2  CEdipus,  as  if  identifying  himself  already  with  the  kinely  house, 
goes  through  the  whole  genealogy  up  to  the  remote  ances;or. 

8  The  imprecation  agrees  almost  verbally  with  the  curse  of  the 
Amphictyomc  councils  againsc  sacrilege. 
3° 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

In  full  accord,  dwell  with  you  evermore. 

Chor.  Since  thou  hast  bound  me  by  a  curse,  O  king, 
I  will  speak  thus.     I  neither  slew  the  man, 
Nor  know  who  slew.     To  say  who  did  the  deed 
Is  quest  for  Him  who  sent  us  on  the  search. 

(Edip.  Right    well    thou     speak'st,    but     man's    best 
strength  must  fail  ^ 

To  force  the  Gods  to  do  the  things  they  will  not. 

Chor.  Fain  would    I    speak  the  thoughts  that  second 
stand. 

(Edip.  Though  there  be  third,  shrink  not  from  speak- 
ing out. 

Chor.  One  man  I  know,  a  prince,  whose  insight  deep 
Sees  clear  as  princely  Phoebos,  and  from  him, 
Teiresias,  one  might  learn,  O  king,  the  truth. 

(Edip.  That  too  is  done.     No  loiterer  I  in  this, 
For  I,  on  Creon's  hint,  two  couriers  sent 
To  summon  him,  and  wonder  that  he  comes  not. 

Chor.  Old  rumours  are  there  also,  dark  and  dumb.     29° 

(Edip.  And  what  are  they  ?    I  weigh  the  slightest  word. 

Chor.  'Twas  said  he  died  by  some    chance    traveller's 
hand. 

(Edip.  I,  too,  heard  that.  But  none  the  eye-witness  sees. 

Chor.   If  yet  his  soul  be  capable  of  awe, 
Hearing  thy  curses,  he  will  shrink  from  them. 

(Edip.  Words  fright  not  him,  who  doing,  knows  no  fear. 

Chor.  Well,  here  is  one  who'll  put  him  to  the  proof. 
For  lo  !  they  bring  the  seer  inspired  of  God, 
With  whom  alone  of  all  men,  truth  abides. 

Enter  TEIRESIAS,  blind  and  guided  by  a  boy. 
(Edip.  Teiresias  !   thou  whose  mind  embraceth  all,  80° 
Told  or  untold,  of  heaven  or  paths  of  earth  ; 
Thou  knowest,  although  thou  see'st  not,  what  a  pest 
Dwells  on  us,  and  we  find  in  thee,  O  prince, 
Our  one  deliverer,  yea,  our  only  help. 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

For  Phoebos  (if  the  couriers  told  thee  not) 

Sent  back  this  word  to  us,  who  sent  to  ask, 

That  this  one  way  was  open  to  escape 

From  this  fell  plague, — if  those  who  Laios  slew, 

We  in  our  turn  discovering  should  slay, 

Or  drive  them  forth  as  exiles  from  the  land. 

Thou,  therefore,  grudge  not  either  sign  from  birds,      8n 

Or  any  other  path  of  prophecy  ; 

But  save  the  city,  save  thyself,  save  me ; 

Save  from  the  curse  the  dead  has  left  behind ; 

On  thee  we  hang.     To  use  our  means,  our  power, 

In  doing  good,  is  noblest  service  owned. 

Teir.  Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  how  dread  is  wisdom's  gift, 
When  no  good  issue  waiteth  on  the  wise  ! 
I  knew  it  all  too  well,  and  then  forgot, 
Or  else  I  had  not  on  this  journey  come. 

CEdip.  What  means  this  ?     How  despondingly  thou 
com'st ! 

Teir.  Let  me  go  home  !  for  thus  thy  lot  shalt  thou, 
And  I  mine  own,  bear  easiest,  if  thou  yield. 

CEaip.  No  loyal  words  thou  speak'st,  nor  true  to  Thebes 
Who  reared  thee,  holding  back  this  oracle.  [32() 

Teir.  I  see  thy  lips  speak  words  that  profit  not  : 
And  lest  I  too  a  like  fault  should  commit  .  .  . 

CEdip.  Now,  by  the  Gods,  unless  thy  reason  fails, 
Refuse  us  not,  who  all  implore  thy  help. 

Teir.  Ah  !     Reason  fails  you  all,  but  ne'er  will  I 
*Say  what  thou  bidd'st,  lest  I  thy  troubles  show. 

CEdip.  What  mean'st  thou,  then  ?     Thou  know'st  and 
wilt  not  tell,  ^ 

But  wilt  betray  us,  and  the  state  destroy  ? 

Teir.  I  will  not  pain  myself  nor  thee.     Why,  then, 
All  vainly  question  ?     Thou  shalt  never  know. 

CEdip.  Oh,  basest  of  the  base  !  (for  thou  would'st  stir 
A  heart  of  stone ;)  and  wilt  thou  never  tell, 
But  still  abide  relentlesi  and  unmoved  I 
3* 


OEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Teir.  My  mood  thou  blamest,  but  thou  dost  not  know 
What  dwelleth  with  thee  while  thou  chidest  me. 

(Edip.  And  who  would  not  feel  anger,  hearing  words 
Like  those  with  which  thou  dost  the  state  insult  ? 

Teir.  Well !  come  they  will,  though  I  should  hold  my 
peace. 

(Edip.  If  come  they  must,  thy  duty  is  to  speak. 

Teir.  I  speak  no  more.     So,  if  thou  wilt,  rage  on, 
With  every  mood  of  wrath  most  desperate. 

(Edip.  Yes ;  I  will  not  refrain,  so  fierce  my  wrath, 
From  speaking  all  my  thought.     I  think  that  thou 
Did'st  plot  the  deed,  and  do  it,  though  the  blow 
Thy  hands,  it  may  be,  dealt  not.     Had'st  thou  seen, 
I  would  have  said  it  was  thy  deed  alone. 

Teir.  And  has  it  come  to  this  ?    I  charge  thee,  hold  35° 
To  thy  late  edict,  and  from  this  day  forth 
Speak  not  to  me,  nor  yet  to  these,  for  thou, 
Thou  art  the  accursed  plague-spot  of  the  land. 

(Edip.  Art  thou  so  shameless  as  to  vent  such  words, 
And  dost  thou  think  to  'scape  scot-free  for  this  ? 

Teir.  I  have  escaped.     The  strength  of  truth  is  mine. 

(Edip.  Who  prompted  thee  ?     This  comes  not  from 
thine  art. 

Teir.  'Twas  thou.     Thou  mad'st  me  speak  against  my 
will. 

(Edip.  What  say'st  thou  ?  Speak  again,  that  I  may  know. 

Teir.  Did'st  thou  not  know  before  ?     Or  dost  thou  try 
me  ?  38° 

(Edip.  I  could  not  say  I  knew  it.     Speak  again. 

Teir.  I  say  thou  art  the  murderer  whom  thou  seek'st. 

(Edip.  Thou  shalt  not  twice  revile,  and  go  unharmed. 

Teir.  And  shall  I  tell  thee  more  to  stir  thy  rage  ? 

(Edip.  Say  what  thou  pleasest.     'Twill  be  said  in  vain, 

Teir.  I  say  that  thou,  in  vilest  intercourse 
With  those  that  dearest  are,  dost  blindly  live, 
Nor  see'st  the  depth  of  evil  thou  hast  reached. 

I  33  c 


(EDIPUS  THE   KING 


>.  And  doit  thou  think  to  say  these  things  un- 
scathed ? 

Teir.  I  doubt  it  not,  if  truth  retain  her  might. 

(Edip.  That  might  is  not  for  thee  ;  thou  can'st  not 

claim  it, 
Blind  in  thine  ears,  thy  reason,  and  thine  eyes. 

Teir.  How  wretched  thou,  thus  hurling  this  reproach! 
Such,  all  too  soon,  will  all  men  hurl  at  thee. 

CEdip.  In  one  long  night  thou  liv'st,  and  can'st  not  hurt, 
Or  me,  or  any  man  who  sees  the  light. 

Teir.  'Tis  not  thy  doom  to  owe  thy  fall  to  me  ; 
Apollo  is  enough,  be  His  the  task. 

(Edip.  Are  these  devices  Creon's,  or  thine  own  ? 

Teir.  It  is  not  Creon  harms  thee,  but  thyself. 

(Edip.  O  wealth,  and  sovereignty,  and  noblest  skill    **• 
Surpassing  skill  in  life  so  envy-fraught, 
How  great  the  ill-will  dogging  all  your  steps  ! 
If  for  the  sake  of  kingship,  which  the  state 
Hath  given,  unasked  for,  freely  in  mine  hands, 
Creon  the  faithful,  found  my  friend  throughout, 
Now  seeks  with  masked  attack  to  drive  me  forth, 
And  hires  this  wizard,  plotter  of  foul  schemes, 
A  vagrant  mountebank,  whose  sight  is  clear 
For  pay  alone,  but  in  his  art  stone-blind. 
Is  it  not  so  ?     When  wast  thou  true  seer  found  ?          •" 
Why,  when  the  monster  with  her  song  was  here, 
Spak'st  thou  no  word  our  countrymen  to  help  ? 
And  yet  the  riddle  lay  above  the  ken 
Of  common  men,  and  called  for  prophet's  skill. 
And  this  thou  show'dst  thou  had'st  not,  nor  by  bird, 
Nor  any  God  made  known  ;  but  then  I  came, 
I,  CEdipus,  who  nothing  know,  and  slew  her, 
With  mine  own  counsel  winning,  all  untaught 
By  flight  of  birds.     And  now  thou  would'st  expel  me, 
And  think'st  to  take  thy  stand  by  Creon's  throne.         *" 
But,  as  I  think,  both  thou  and  he  that  plans 
34 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

With  thee,  will  hunt  this  mischief  to  your  cost  ; 

And  but  that  I  must  think  of  thee  as  old, 

Thou  had'st  learnt  wisdom,  suffering  what  thou  plann'st. 

Chor.  Far  as  we  dare  to  guess,  we  think  his  words, 
And  thine,  O  CEdipus,  in  wrath  are  said. 
Not  such  as  these  we  need,  but  this  to  see, 
How  best  to  solve  the  God's  great  oracles. 

Teir.  King  though  thou  be,  I  claim  an  equal  right 
To  make  reply.     That  power,  at  least,  is  mine  : 
For  I  am  not  thy  slave,  but  Loxias'  ;*  °° 

Nor  shall  I  stand  on  Creon's  patronage  : 
And  this  I  say,  since  thou  my  blindness  mock'st, 
That  thou,  though  seeing,  failest  to  perceive 
Thy  evil  plight,  nor  where  thou  liv'st,  nor  yet 
With  whom  thou  dwellest.     Know'st  thou  even  this, 
Whence  thou  art  sprung  ?     All  ignorant  thou  sinn'st 
Against  thine  own,  beneath,  and  on  the  earth  : 
And  soon  a  two-edged  Curse  from  sire  and  mother, 
With  foot  of  fear,  shall  chase  thee  forth  from  us, 
Now  seeing  all  things  clear,  then  all  things  dark. 
And  will  not  then  each  creek  repeat  thy  wail, 
Each  valley  of  Kithaeron  echoing  ring, 
When  thou  discern 'st  the  marriage,  fatal  port, 
To  which  thy  prosp'rous  voyage  brought  thy  bark  ? 
And  other  ills,  in  countless  multitude, 
*Thou  see'st  not  yet,  shall  make  thy  lot  as  one 
*With  sire's  and  child's.    Vent  forth  thy  wrath  then  loud, 
On  Creon,  and  my  speech.     There  lives  not  man 
Whose  life  shall  waste  more  wretchedly  than  thine. 

(Edip.  Can  this  be  longer  borne  !     Away  with  thee  ! 
A  curse  light  on  thee  !     Wilt  thou  not  depart  ? 
Wilt  thou  not  turn  and  from  this  house  go  back  ? 

Teir.    I   had  not  come,  had'st  thou    not  called  me 
here. 

1  The  special  name  of  Apollo  as  the  prophttes  of  Zeus,  and  there- 
fore the  guardian  of  all  seers  and  prophets. 
35 


CEDIPUS  THE    KING 

(Edip.  I  knew  not  thou  would'st  speak  so  foolishly  ; 
Else  I  had  hardly  fetched  thee  to  my  house. 

Teir.  We  then,  so  seems  it  thee,  are  fools  from  birth, 
But,  unto  those  who  gave  thee  birth,  seem  wise. 

[Turns  to  go. 

(Edip.  [Starting   forward^  What  ?     Stay    thy    foot. 
What  mortal  gave  me  birth  ? 

Teir.  This  day  shall  give  thy  birth,  and  work  thy  doom. 

(Edip.  What  riddles  dark  and  dim  thou  lov'st  to  speak. 

Teir.  Yes.     But  thy  skill  excels  in  solving  such.         44° 

(Edip.  Scoff  thou  at  that  in  which  thou'lt  find  me  strong. 

Teir.  And  yet  this  same  success  has  worked  thy  fall. 

(Edip.  I  little  care,  if  I  have  saved  the  state, 

Teir.  Well,  then,  I  go.     Do  thou,  boy,  lead  me  on  ! 

(Edip.  Let  him  lead  on.     Most  hateful  art  thou  near; 
Thou  can'st  not  pain  me  more  when  thou  art  gone. 

Teir.  I  go  then,  having  said  the  things  I  came 
To  say.     No  fear  of  thee  compels  me.     Thine 
Is  not  the  power  to  hurt  me.     And  I  say, 
This  man  whom  thou  dost  seek  with  hue-and-cry, 
As  murderer  of  Laios,  he  is  here, 
In  show  an  alien  sojourner,  but  in  truth 
A  homeborn  Theban.     No  delight  to  him 
Will  that  discovery  bring.     Blind,  having  seen, 
Poor,  having  rolled  in  wealth, — he,  with  a  staff 
Feeling  his  way,  to  a  strange  land  shall  go  ! 
And  to  his  sons  shall  he  be  seen  at  once 
Father  and  brother,  and  of  her  who  bore  him 
Husband  and  son,  sharing  his  father's  bed, 
His  father's  murd'rer.     Go  thou  then  within, 
And  brood  o'er  this,  and,  if  thou  find'st  me  fail, 
Say  that  my  skill  in  prophecy  is  gone. 

[Exeunt  CEoiPUS  and  TEIRESIAS 

STROPHE  I 
Char.  Who  was  it  that  the  rock  oracular 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Of  Delphi  spake  of,  working 
With  bloody  hands  of  all  dread  deeds  most  dread? 

Time  is  it  now  for  him, 
Swifter  than  fastest  steed  to  bend  his  flight ; 

For,  in  full  armour  clad, 

Upon  him  darts,  with  fire 
And  lightning  flash,  the  radiant  Son  of  Zeus,  4TO 

And  with  Him  come  in  train 

The  dread  and  awful  Powers, 
The  Destinies  that  fail  not  of  their  aim. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
For  from  Parnassos'  heights,  enwreathed  with  snow, 

Gleaming,  but  now  there  shone 
The  oracle  that  bade  us,  one  and  all, 

Track  the  unnamed,  unknown  ; 
For,  lo  !  he  wanders  through  the  forest  wild, 

In  caves  and  over  rocks, 

As  strays  the  mountain  bull, 
In  dreary  loneliness  with  dreary  tread, 

Seeking  in  vain  to  shun 

Dread  words  from  central  shrine  ;* 
Yet  they  around  him  hover,  full  of  life. 

STROPHE  II 
Fearfully,  fearfully  the  augur  moves  me. 

Nor  answering,  aye  nor  no  ! 
And  what  to  say  I  know  not,  but  float  on, 

And  hover  still  in  hopes, 
And  fail  to  scan  things  present  or  to  come. 

For  not  of  old,  nor  now, 
Learnt  I  what  cause  of  strife  at  variance  set 

The  old  Labdakid  race 
With  him,  the  child  and  heir  of  Polybos, 

Nor  can  1  test  the  tale, 

1  Delphi,  thought  of  by  the  Greeks,  as  Jerusalem  was  in  the  middle 
ages,  as  the  centre  of  the  whole  earth. 


CEDIPUS  THE    KING 

And  take  my  stand  against  the  well-earned  fame, 

Of  GEdipus,  my  lord, 
As  champion  of  the  old  Labdakid  race, 

For  deaths  obscure  and  dark  ! 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
For  Zeus  and  King  Apollo,  they  are  wise, 

And  know  the  hearts  of  men  : 
But  that  a  seer  excelleth  me  in  skill, 

This  is  no  judgment  true  ; 
And  one  man  may  another's  wisdom  pass, 

By  wisdom  higher  still. 
I,  for  my  part,  before  the  word  is  plain, 

Will  ne'er  assent  in  blame. 
Full  clear,  the  winged  Maiden-monster  came 

Against  him,  and  he  proved, 
By  sharpest  test,  that  he  was  wise  indeed, 

By  all  the  land  beloved, 
And  never,  from  my  heart  at  least,  shall  come 

Words  that  accuse  of  guilt. 

Enter  CREON. 

Creon.  I  come,  ye  citizens,  as  having  learnt 
Our  sovereign,  CEdipus,  accuses  me 
Of  dreadful  things  I  cannot  bear  to  hear. 
For  if,  in  these  calamities  of  ours, 
He  thinks  he  suffers  wrongly  at  my  hands, 
In  word  or  deed,  aught  tending  to  his  hurt, 
I  set  no  value  on  a  life  prolonged, 
While  this  reproach  hangs  on  me  ;  for  its  harm 
Affects  not  slightly,  but  is  direst  shame, 
If  through  the  town  my  name  as  villain  rings, 
By  thee  and  by  my  friends  a  villain  called. 

Chor.  But  this  reproach,  it  may  be,  came  from  wrath 
All  hasty,  rather  than  from  calm,  clear  mind. 

Creon,  And  who  informed  him  that  the  seer,  seduced 


CEDIPUS  THE    KING 

By  my  devices,  spoke  his  lying  words  ? 

Chor.  The  words  were    said,  but  with  what  mind  I 
know  not. 

Creon.  And  was  it  with  calm  eyes  and  judgment  calm, 
This  charge  was  brought  against  my  name  and  fame  ? 

Char.  I  cannot  say.     To  what  our  rulers  do 
I  close  my  eyes.     But  here  he  comes  himself. 

Enter  CEoipus. 

(Edip.  Ho,  there  !  is't  thou  ?     And  does  thy  boldness 

soar 

So  shameless  as  to  come  beneath  my  roof, 
When  thou,  'tis  clear,  dost  plot  against  my  life, 
And  seek'st  to  rob  me  of  my  sovereignty  f 
Is  it,  by  all  the  Gods,  that  thou  hast  seen 
Or  cowardice  or  folly  in  my  soul, 
That  thou  hast  laid  thy  plans  ?     Or  thoughtest  thou 
That  I  should  neither  see  thy  sinuous  wiles, 
Nor,  knowing,  ward  them  off?     This  scheme  of  thine, 
Is  it  not  wild,  backed  nor  by  force  nor  friends, 
To  seek  the  power  which  force  and  wealth  must  grasp  ? 

Creon.  Dostknowwhat  thou  wilt  do?  For  words  of  thine 
Hear  like  words  back,  and  as  thou  hearest,  judge. 

(Edip.  Cunning  of  speech  art  thou.     But  I  am  slow 
Of  thee  to  learn,  whom  I  have  found  my  foe. 

Creon.  Of   this,    then,    first,    hear  what    I    have  to 
speak.  .  .  . 

(Edip.  But  this,  then,  say  not,  that  thou  art  not  vile. 

Creon.  If  that  thou  thinkest  self-willed  pride  avails, 
Apart  from  judgment,  know  thou  art  not  wise. 

(Edip.  If  that  thou  think'st,  thy  kinsman  injuring, 
To  do  it  unchastised,  thou  art  not  wise. 

Creon.  In  this,  I  grant,  thou  speakest  right  ;  but  tell, 
What  form  of  injury  hast  thou  to  endure  ? 

(Edip.  Did'st  thou,  or  did'st  thou  not,  thy  counsel  give, 
Some  one  to  send  to  fetch  this  reverend  seer  ? 
39 


(EDIPUS   THE   KING 

Creon.  And  even  now  by  that  advice  I  hold  ! 

CEdip.  How   long    a    time    has   passed    since    La*5os 
chanced  .  .  .  [Pauses. 

Creon.  Chanced  to  do  what  ?     I  understand  not  yet. 

CEdip.  Since  he  was  smitten  with  the  deadly  blow  ?  ** 

Creon.  The  years  would  measure  out  a  long,  long  tale. 

CEdip.  And  was  this  seer  then  practising  his  art  ? 

Creon.  Full  wise  as  now,  and  equal  in  repute. 

CEdip.  Did  he  at  that  time  say  a  word  of  me  ? 

Creon.  Not  one,  while  I,  at  any  rate,  was  by. 

CEdip.  What  ?  Held  ye  not  your  quest  upon  the  dead  ? 

Creon.  Of  course  we  held  it,  but  we  nothing  heard. 

CEdip.  How  was  it  he,  this  wise  one,  spoke  not  then  ? 

Creon.  I  know  not,  and,  not  knowing,  hold  my  peace. 

CEdip.  Thy  deed  thou  know'st,  and  with  clear  mind 
could'st  speak  ! 

Creon.  What  is't  !     I  '11  not  deny  it,  if  I  know. 

CEdip.  Were  he  not  leagued  with  thee  he  ne'er  had  talked 
Of  felon  deed  by  me  on  Laios  done. 

Creon.  If  he  says  this,  thou  know'st  it.     I  of  thee 
Desire  to  learn,  as  thou  hast  learnt  of  me. 

CEdip.  Learn  then  ;  on  me  no  guilt  of  blood  shall  rest. 

Creon.  Well,  then, — my  sister?  dost  thou  own   her 
wife  ? 

CEdip.  I  cannot  meet  this  question  with  denial. 

Creon.  Rul'st  thou  this  land  in  equal  right  with  her? 

CEdip.  Her  every  wish  she  doth  from  me  receive.       **> 

Creon.  And  am  not  I  co-equal  with  you  twain  ? 

CEdip.  Yes ;  and  just  here  thou  show'st  thyself  false 
friend. 

Creon.  Not  so,  if  thou  would'st  reason  with  thyself, 
As  I  will  reason.     First  reflect  on  this ; 
Supposest  thou  that  one  would  rather  choose 
To  reign  with  fears  than  sleep  untroubled  sleep 
His  power  being  equal  ?      I,  for  one,  prize  less 
The  name  of  king  than  deeds  of  kingly  power  ; 
40 


GEDIPUS  THE   KING 

And  so  would  all  who  learn  in  wisdom's  school. 

Now  without  fear  I  have  what  I  desire, 

At  thy  hand  given.     Did  I  rule,  myself, 

I  might  do  much  unwillingly.     Why  then 

Should  sovereignty  exert  a  softer  charm, 

Than  power  and  might  unchequered  by  a  care  ? 

I  am  not  yet  so  cheated  by  myself, 

As  to  desire  aught  else  but  honest  gain. 

Now  all  men  hail  me,  every  one  salutes, 

Now  they  who  seek  thy  favour  court  my  smiles, 

For  on  this  hinge  does  all  their  fortune  turn. 

Why  then  should  I  leave  this  to  hunt  for  that  ? 

My  mind,  retaining  reason,  ne'er  could  act 

The  villain's  part.     I  was  not  bora  to  love 

Such  thoughts,  nor  join  another  in  the  act; 

And  as  a  proof  of  this,  go  thou  thyself, 

And  ask  at  Pytho  whether  I  brought  back, 

In  very  deed,  the  oracles  I  heard. 

And  if  thou  find  me  plotting  with  the  seer, 

In  common  concert,  not  by  one  decree, 

But  two,  thine  own  and  mine,  put  me  to  death. 

But  charge  me  not  with  crime  on  shadowy  proof; 

For  neither  is  it  just,  in  random  thought, 

The  bad  to  count  as  good,  nor  good  as  bad ;  61° 

For  to  thrust  out  a  friend  of  noble  heart, 

Is  like  the  parting  with  the  life  we  love. 

And  this  in  time  thou'lt  know,  for  time  alone 

Makes  manifest  the  righteous.     Of  the  vile 

Thou  may'st  detect  the  vileness  in  a  day. 

Chor.  To    one    who    fears  to  fall,  his    words    seem 

good ; 
O  king,  swift  counsels  are  not  always  safe. 

(Edip,  But  when  a  man  is  swift  in  wily  schemes, 
Swift  must  I  be  to  baffle  plot  with  plot  ; 
And  if  I  stand  and  wait,  he  wins  the  day,  «20 

And  all  my  state  to  rack  and  ruin  goes. 
41 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Creon.  What  seek'st  thou,  then  ?  to  drive  me  from  the 
land? 

(Edip.  Not  so.     I  seek  thy  death,  not  banishment. 

Creon.  When  thou  show'st  first  what  grudge  I  bear  to 
thee. 

(Edip.  And  say'st  thou  this  defying,  yielding  not  ? 

Creon.  I  see  your  mind  is  gone. 

(Edip.  My  right  I  mind. 

Creon.  Mine  has  an  equal  claim. 

(Edip.  Nay,  thou  art  vile. 

Creon.  And  if  thy  mind  is  darkened  .  .  .  .? 

(Edip.  Still  obey  ! 

Creon.  Nay,  not  a  tyrant  king. 

(Edip.  O  country  mine  ! 

Creon.  That  country,  too,  is  mine,  not  thine  alone.    "so 

Ckor.  Cease,  O  my  princes !     In  good  time  I  see 
Jocasta  coming  hither  from  the  house  ; 
And  it  were  well  with  her  to  hush  this  brawl. 

Enter  JOCASTA. 

Joe.  Why,  O  ye  wretched  ones,  this  strife  of  tongues 
Raise  ye  in  your  unwisdom,  nor  are  shamed, 
Our  country  suffering,  private  griefs  to  stir  ? 
Come  thou  within  ;  and  thou,  O  Creon,  go ; 
Bring  not  a  trifling  sore  to  mischief  great  ! 

Creon.  My  sister  !  CEdipus  thy  husband  claims 
The  right  to  do  me  one  of  two  great  wrongs, 
To  thrust  me  from  my  fatherland,  or  slay  me. 

(Edip.  Tis  even  so,  for  I  have  found  him,  wife, 
Against  my  life  his  evil  wiles  devising. 

Cretn.  May  I  ne'er  prosper,  but  accursed  die, 
If  I  have  done  the  things  he  says  I  did  ! 

Joe.  Oh,  by  the  Gods,  believe  him,  CEdipus  ! 
Respect  his  oath,  which  calls  the  Gods  to  hear  ; 
And  reverence  me,  and  these  who  stand  by  thee. 

Chor.  Hearken,  my  king  !   Be  calmer,  I  implore  ! 
42 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

(Edip.   What  wilt  thou  that  I  yield  ?  "° 

Chor.  Oh,  have  respect 

To  one  not  weak  before,  who  now  is  strong 
In  this  his  oath. 

(Edip.  And  know'st  thou  what  thou  ask'st  ? 

Chor.  I  know  right  well. 

(Edip.  Say  on,  then,  what  thou  wilt. 

Chor.  Hurl  not  to  shame,  on   grounds    of  mere  mis- 
trust, 
*The  friend  on  whom  no  taint  of  evil  hangs. 

(Edip.  Know  then  that,  seeking  this,  thou  seek'st,  in 

truth, 
To  work  my  death,  or  else  my  banishment. 

Chor.  Nay,  by  the  Sun-God,  Helios,  chief  of  Gods ! l 
May  I,  too,  die,  of  God  and  man  accursed,  f690 

If  I  wish  aught  like  this  !  But  on  my  soul, 
Our  wasting  land  dwells  heavily  ;  ills  on  ills 
*Still  coming,  new  upon  the  heels  of  old. 

(Edip.  Let  him  depart  then,  even  though  I  die, 
Or  from  my  country  be  thrust  forth  in  shame  : 
Thy  face,  not  his,  1  view  with  pitying  eye  ; 
For  him,  where'er  he  be,  is  nought  but  hate. 

Creon.  Thou'rt  loth  to  yield,  'twould  seem,  and  wilt 

be  vexed 

When  this  thy  wrath  is  over  :  moods  like  thine 
Are  fitly  to  themselves  most  hard  to  bear. 

(Edip.  Wilt  thou  not  go,  and  leave  me  ? 

Creon.  I  will  go, 

By  thee  misjudged,  but  known  as  just  by  these.      [Exit. 

Chor.  Why,  lady,  art  thou  slow  to  lead  him  in  I 

Jot.  I  fain  would  learn  how  this  sad  chance  arose.  88° 

Chsr.  Blind  haste  of  speech  there   was,  and    wrong 
will  sting. 

Joe.  From  both  of  them  ? 

1  Helios,  specially  invoked  as  the  giver  of  light,  discerning  and 
making  manifest  all  bidden  things. 
43 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Chor.  Yea,  both. 

Joe.  And  what  said  each  ? 

Chor.  Enough  for  me,  enough,  our  land  laid  low, 
It  seems,  to  leave  the  quarrel  where  it  stopped. 

CEdip.  See'st  thou,  thou  good  in  counsel,  what  thou  dost, 
Slighting  my  cause,  and  toning  down  thy  zeal  ? 

Chor.  My  chief,  not  once  alone  I  spoke, 
Unwise,  unapt  for  wisdom  should  I  seem,  8eo 

Were  I  to  turn  from  thee  aside, 
Who,  when  my  country  rocked  in  storm, 
Did'st  right  her  course.     Ah  !  if  thou  can'st, 
Steer  her  well  onward  now. 

Joe.  Tell  me,  my  king,  what  cause  of  fell  debate 
Has  bred  this  discord,  and  provoked  thy  soul. 

CEdip.  Thee  will  I  tell,  for  thee  I  honour  more        70° 
Than  these.     'Twas  Creon  and  his  plots  against  me. 

Joe.  Say  then,  if  clearly  thou  can'st  tell  the  strife. 

CEdip.  He  says  that  I  am  Laios'  murderer. 

Joe.  Of  his  own  knowledge,  or  by  some  one  taught  ? 

(Edip.  A  scoundrel  seer  suborning.     For  himself, 
He  takes  good  care  to  free  his  lips  from  blame. 

Joe.  Leave  now  thyself,  and  all  thy  thoughts  of  this, 
And  list  to  me,  and  learn  how  little  skill 
In  art  prophetic  mortal  man  may  claim  ; 
And  of  this  truth,  I'll  give  thee  one  short  proof. 
There  came  to  Laios  once  an  oracle, 
(I  say  not  that  it  came  from  Phoebos'  self, 
But  from  his  servants,)  that  his  fate  was  fixed 
By  his  son's  hand  to  fall — his  own  and  mine  ; 
And  him,  so  rumour  runs,  a  robber  band 
Of  aliens  slay,  where  meet  the  three  great  roads. 
Nor  did  three  days  succeed  the  infant's  birth, 
Before,  by  other  hands,  he  cast  him  forth, 
Piercing  his  ankles,  on  a  lonely  hill. 
Here,  then,  Apollo  failed  to  make  the  boy 
His  father's  murderer  ;  nor  by  his  son's  hands, 
44 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Doom  that  he  dreaded,  did  our  Laios  die ; 
Such  things  divining  oracles  proclaimed  ; 
Therefore  regard  them  not.     Whate'er  the  God 
Desires  to  search  He  will  himself  declare. 

(Edip.  [Trembling.]  Ah,  as  but  now  I  heard  thee  speak, 

my  queen, 
Strange  whirl  of  soul,  and  rush  of  thoughts  o'ercome  me 

Joe.  What  vexing  care  bespeaks  this  sudden  change  ? 

(Edip.  I  thought  I  heard  thee  say  that  Laios  fell, 
Smitten  to  death  where  meet  the  three  great  roads.      ^ 

Joe.  So  was  it  said,  and  still  the  rumours  hold. 

(Edip.  Where  was  the  spot  in  which  this  matter  passed  ? 

Joe.  They  call  the  country  Phocis,  and  the  roads1 
From  Delphi  and  from  Daulia  there  converge. 

(Edip.  And  what  the  interval  of  time  since  then  ? 

Joe.  But  just  before  thou  earnest  to  possess 
And  rule  this  land  the  tidings  reached  our  city. 

(Edip.  Great  Zeus!  what  fate  hast  thou  decreed  for  me? 

Joe.  What  thought  is  this,  my  CEdipus,  of  thine  ? 

(Edip.  Ask  me  not  yet,  but  Laios,  .  .  .   tell  of  him,740 
His  build,  his  features,  and  his  years  of  life. 

Joe.  Tall  was  he,  and  the  white  hairs  snowed  his  head, 
And  in  his  form  not  much  unlike  to  thee. 

(Edip.  Woe,  woe  is  me  !  so  seems  it  I  have  plunged 
All  blindly  into  curses  terrible. 

Joe.  What  sayest  thou  ?     I  fear  to  look  at  thee. 

(Edip.  I  tremble  lest  the  seer  has  seen  indeed  : 
But  thou  can'st  clear  it,  answering  yet  once  more. 

Joe.  And  I  too  fear,  yet  what  thou  ask'st  I'll  tell. 

(Edip.  Went  he  in  humble  guise,  or  with  a  troop     76° 
Of  spearmen,  as  becomes  a  man  that  rules  ? 

Joe.  Five  were  they  altogether,  and  of  them 

1  The  meeting  place  of  the  three  roads  is  now  the  site  of  a  decayed 
Turkish  village,  the  Stavrodrom  of  Mparpanas. 

In  ^Eschylos  (Fragm.    160),  the  scene  of  the  murder  was  laid  at 
Potniae,  on  the  road  between  Thebes  and  Platasa.     As  the  name 
indicates,  the  Erinnyes  were  worshipped  there. 
45 


CEDIPUS  THE    KING 

One  was  a  herald,  and  one  chariot  bore  him. 

GLdip.  Woe!  woe!  'tis  all  too  clear.  And  who  was  he 
That  told  these  tidings  to  thee,  O  my  queen  ? 

Joe.  A  servant  who  alone  escaped  with  life. 

(Etlip.  And  does  he  chance  to  dwell  among  us  now  ? 

Joe.  Not  so  ;  for  from  the  time  when  he  returned, 
And  found  thee  bearing  sway,  and  Laios  dead, 
He,  at  my  hand,  a  suppliant,  implored 
This  boon,  to  send  him  to  the  distant  fields 
To  feed  his  flocks,  as  far  as  possible 
From  this  our  city.     And  I  sent  him  forth  ; 
For  though  a  slave,  he  might  have  claimed  yet  more. 

(Edip.  Ah !  could  we  fetch  him  quickly  back  again  ! 

Joe.  That  may  well  be.     But  why  dost  thou  wish  this  ? 

GLdip.  I  fear,  O  queen,  that  words  best  left  unsaid 
Have  passed  these  lips,  and  therefore  wish  to  see  him. 

Joe.  Well,  he  shall  come.  But  some  small  claim  have  I, 

0  king,  to  learn  what  touches  thee  with  woe. 
(EJip.  Thou  shalt  not  fail  to  learn  it,  now  that  I 

Have  gone  so  far  in  bodings.     Whom  should  I 
More  than  to  thee  tell  all  the  passing  chance  ? 

1  had  a  father,  Polybos  of  Corinth, 
And  Merope  of  Doris  was  my  mother, 
And  I  was  held  in  honour  by  the  rest 
Who  dwelt  there,  till  this  accident  befel, 
Worthy  of  wonder,  of  the  heat  unworthy 

It  roused  within  me.     Thus  it  chanced  :  A  man 
At  supper,  in  his  cups,  with  wine  o'ertnken, 
Reviles  me  as  a  spurious  changeling  boy ; 
And  I,  sore  vexed,  hardly  for  that  day 
Restrained  myself.     And  when  the  morrow  came 
I  went  and  charged  my  father  and  my  mother 
With  what  I  thus  had  heard.     They  heaped  reproach 
On  him  who  stirred  the  matter,  and  I  soothed 
My  soul  with  what  they  told  me  ;  yet  it  teased, 
Still  vexing  more  and  more  ;  and  so  I  went, 
46 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Unknown  to  them,  to  Pytho,  and  the  God 
Sent  me  forth  shamed,  unanswered  in  my  quest  ; 
And  other  things  He  spake,  dread,  dire,  and  dark, 
That  I  should  join  in  wedlock  with  my  mother, 
Beget  a  brood  that  men  should  loathe  to  look  at, 
Be  murderer  of  the  father  that  begot  me. 
And,  hearing  this,  I  straight  from  Corinth  fled, 
The  stars  thenceforth  the  land-marks  of  my  way, 
And  fled  where  never  more  mine  eyes  might  see 
The  shame  of  those  dire  oracles  fulfilled  ; 
And  as  I  went  I  reached  the  spot  where  he, 
This  king,  thou  tell'st  me,  met  the  fatal  blow. 
And  now,  O  lady,  I  will  tell  the  truth. 
Wending  my  steps  that  way  where  three  roads  meet, 
There  met  me  first  a  herald,  and  a  man 
Like  him  thou  told'st  of,  riding  on  his  car, 
Drawn  by  young  colts.     With  rough  and  hasty  force 
They  drove  me  from  the  road, — the  driver  first, 
And  that  old  man  himself;  and  then  in  rage 
I  strike  the  driver,  who  had  turned  me  back, 
And  when  the  old  man  sees  it,  watching  me 
As  by  the  chariot  side  I  passed,  he  struck 
My  forehead  with  a  double-pointed  goad. 
But  we  were  more  than  quits,  for  in  a  trice 
With  this  right  hand  I  struck  him  with  my  staff", 
And  he  rol's  backward  from  his  chariot's  seat. 
And  then  I  slay  them  all.     And  if  it  chance 
That  Laios  and  this  stranger  are  akin, 
What  man  more  wretched  than  this  man  who  speaks  ? 
What  man  more  harassed  by  the  vexing  Gods  ? 
He  whom  none  now,  or  alien,  or  of  Thebes, 
May  welcome  to  their  house,  or  speak  to  him, 
But  thrust  him  forth  an  exile.     And  'twas  I, 
None  other,  who  against  myself  proclaimed 
These  curses.     And  the  bed  of  him  that  died 
I  with  my  hands,  by  which  he  fell,  defile. 
47 


CEDIPUS  THE    KING 

Am  I  not  born  to  evil,  all  unclean  ? 
If  I  must  flee,  yet  still  in  flight  my  doom 
Is  never  more  to  see  the  friends  I  love, 
Nor  tread  my  country's  soil ;  or  else  to  bear 
The  guilt  of  incest,  and  my  father  slay, 
Yea,  Polybos,  who  begat  and  brought  me  up. 
Would  not  a  man  say  right  who  said  that  here 
Some  cruel  God  was  pressing  hard  on  me  ? 
Not  that,  not  that,  at  least,  thou  Presence,  pure 
And  awful,  of  the  Gods ;  may  I  ne'er  look 
On  such  a  day  as  that,  but  far  away 
Depart  unseen  from  all  the  haunts  of  men, 
Before  such  great  pollution  comes  on  me. 

Chor.  We,  too,  O  king,  are  grieved,  yet  hope  thou  on, 
Till  thou  hast  asked  the  man  who  then  was  by. 

(Edip.  And  this  indeed  is  all  the  hope  I  have, 
Waiting  until  that  shepherd-slave  appear. 

Joe.  And  when  he  comes,  what  ground  for  hope  is  there? 

(Edip.  I'll  tell  thee.     Should  he  now  repeat  the  tale 
Thou  told'st  me,  I,  at  least,  stand  free  from  guilt. 

Joe.  What  special  word  was  that  thou  heard'st  from 
me  ? 

(Edip.  Thou  said'st  he  told  that  robbers  slew  his  lord, 
And  should  he  give  their  number  as  the  same 
Now  as  before,  it  was  not  I  who  slew  him, 
For  one  man  could  not  be  the  same  as  many, 
But  if  he  speak  of  one  man,  all  alone, 
Then,  all  too  plain,  the  deed  cleaves  fast  to  me. 

Joe.  But  know,  the  thing  was  said,  and  clearly  said, 
And  now  he  cannot  from  his  word  draw  back. 
Not  I  alone,  but  the  whole  city,  heard  it  ; 
And  should  he  now  retract  his  former  tale, 
Not  then,  my  husband,  will  he  rightly  show 
The  death  of  Laios,  who,  as  Loxias  told, 
By  my  son's  hands  should  die  ;  and  yet,  poor  boy, 
He  killed  him  not,  but  perished  long  ago, 
48 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

So  I,  at  least,  for  all  their  oracles, 

Will  never  more  cast  glance  or  here,  or  there. 

(Edlp.  Thou  reasonest  well.     Yet  send  a  messenger 
To  fetch  that  peasant.     Be  not  slack  in  this. 

Joe.  I  will  make  haste.     But  let  us  now  go  in  ; 
I  would  do  nothing  that  displeaseth  thee.  [£xeunt 

STROPHE  I 
Chor,   O  that  'twere  mine  to  keep 

An  awful  purity, 
In  words  and  deeds  whose  laws  on  high  are  set 

Through  heaven's  clear  aether  spread, 

Whose  birth  Olympos  boasts, 

Their  one,  their  only  sire, 

Wnom  man's  frail  flesh  begat  not, 

Nor  in  forgetfulness  8?l 

Shall  lull  to  sleep  of  death  ; 

In  them  our  God  is  great, 
In  them  He  grows  not  old  for  evermore. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

But  pride  begets  the  mood 

Of  wanton,  tyrant  power  ; 
Pride  filled  with  many  thoughts,  yet  filled  in  vain, 

Untimely,  ill-advised, 

Scaling  the  topmost  height, 

Falls  to  the  abyss  of  woe, 

Where  step  that  profiteth 

It  seeks  in  vain  to  take. 

I  ask  our  God  to  stay 

The  labours  never  more 

That  work  our  country's  good  ; 
I  will  not  cease  to  call  on  God  for  aid. 

STROPHE  II 
But  if  there  be  who  walketh  haughtily, 

In  action  or  in  speech, 
i  49  * 


CED1PUS  THE   KING 

Whom  Righteousness  herself  has  ceased  to  awe, 
Who  shrines  of  Gods  reveres  not, 

An  evil  fate  be  his, 

(Fit  meed  for  all  his  evil  boastfulness  ;) 
Unless  he  gain  his  gains  more  righteously, 
*And  draweth  back  from  deeds  of  sacrilege, 
*JNor  lays  rash  hand  upon  the  holy  things, 

By  man  inviolable  :  ** 

Who  now,  if  such  things  be, 

*Will  boast  that  he  can  guard 

*His  soul  from  darts  of  wrath  ? 
If  deeds  like  these  are  held  in  high  repute, 

What  profit  is  't  for  me 

To  raise  my  choral  strain  ? 

ANTISTROPHK  II 
No  longer  will  I  go  in  pilgrim's  guise, 

To  yon  all  holy  place, 
Earth's  central  shrine,  nor  Abac's  temple  old, 

Nor  to  Olympia's  fane,1  ^ 

Unless  these  things  shall  stand 
fn  sight  of  all  men,  tokens  clear  from  God. 
But,  O  thou  sovereign  Ruler  !  if  that  name, 
O  Zeus,  belongs  to  thee,  who  reign'st  o'er  all, 
Let  not  this  trespass  hide  itself  from  thee, 

Or  thine  undying  sway  ; 

For  now  they  set  at  nought 

The  worn-out  oracles, 

That  Laios  heard  of  old, 
And  king  Apollo's  wonted  worship  flags, 

And  all  to  wreck  is  gone 

The  homage  due  to  God.  M0 

1  The  central  shrine  is,  as  in  480,  Delphi,  where  a  white  oval 
stone  was  supposed  to  be  the  very  centre,  or  omphalos  of  the  earth. 
At  Abae,  in  Phocis,  was  an  oracle  of  Apollo,  believed  to  be  older 
than  that  of  Delphi.  In  Olympia,  the  priests  of  Zeus  divined  from 
the  clearness  or  dimness  of  the  fire  upon  the  altar. 
5° 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Enter  JOCASTA,  followed  by  Attendants. 
Joe.  Princes  of  this  our  land,  across  my  soul 
There  comes  the  thought  to  go  from  shrine  to  shrine 
Of  all  the  Gods,  these  garlands  in  my  hand, 
And  waving  incense  ;  for  our  CEdipus 
Vexes  his  soul  too  wildly  with  all  woes, 
And  speaks  not  as  a  man  should  speak  who  scans 
New  issues  by  experience  of  the  old, 
But  hangs  on  every  breath  that  tells  of  fear. 
And  since  I  find  that  my  advice  avails  not, 
To  thee,  Lykeian  King,  Apollo,  first 
I  come, — for  thou  art  nearest, — suppliant  92° 

With  these  devotions,  trusting  thou  wilt  work 
Some  way  of  healing  for  us,  free  from  guilt  ; 
For  now  we  shudder,  all  of  us,  seeing  him, 
The  good  ship's  pilot,  stricken  down  with  fear. 

Enter  Messenger. 

Mess.  May  I  inquire  of  you,  O  strangers,  where 
To  find  the  house  of  CEdipus  the  king, 
And,  above  all,  where  he  is,  if  ye  know  ? 

Char.  This  is  the  house,  and  he,  good  sir,  within, 
And  here  stands  she,  the  mother  of  his  children. 

Mess.  Good  fortune  be  with  her  and  all  her  kin, 
Being,  as  she  is,  his  true  and  honoured  wife.  *30 

Joe.  Like  fortune  be  with  thee,  my  friend.  Thy  speech, 
So  kind,  deserves  no  less.     But  tell  me  why 
Thou  comest,  what  thou  hast  to  ask  or  tell. 

Mess.  Good  news  to  thee,  and  to  thy  husband,  lady. 

Joe.  What  is  it,  then  ?  and  who  has  sent  thee  here  f 

Mess.  I  come  from  Corinth,  and  the  news  I  '11  tell 
May  give  thee  joy.     How  else  ?     Yet  thou  may'st  grieve. 

Joe.  What  is  the  news  that  has  this  twofold  power  ? 

Mess.  The  citizens  that  on  the  Isthmus  dwell 
Will  make  him  sovereign.     So  the  rumour  ran.  M0 

Si 


CEDIPUS  THE    KING 

Joe.  What  !      Does  old   Polybos  hold  his    own    no 
more  ? 

Men.  Nay,  nay.     Death  holds  him  in  his  sepulchre. 

Joe.  What  say'st  thou  ?     Polybos,  thy  king,  is  dead  ? 

Mess.  If  I  speak  false,  I  bid  you  take  my  life. 

Joe.  Go,  maiden,  at  thy  topmost  speed,  and  tell 
Thy  master  this.     Now,  oracles  of  Gods, 
Where  are  ye  now  ?     Long  since  my  (Edipus 
Fled,  fearing  lest  his  hand  should  slay  the  man  ; 
And  now  he  dies  by  fate,  and  not  by  him. 

Enter  (Eoipus. 

(Edip.  Mine  own  Jocasta,  why,  O  dearest  one,  M0 
Why  hast  thou  sent  to  fetch  me  from  the  house  ? 

Joe.  List  this  man's  tale,  and,  when  thou  hearest,  see 
The  plight  of  those  the  God's  dread  oracles. 

(Edip.  Who  then  is  this,  and  what  has  he  to  tell  ? 

Joe.  He  comes  from  Corinth,  and  he  brings  thee  word 
That  Polybos  thy  father  lives  no  more. 

(Edip.  What  say'st  thou,  friend  f     Tell  me  thy  tale 
thyself. 

Mess.  If  I  must  needs  report  the  story  clear, 
Know  well  that  he  has  gone  the  way  of  death. 

(Edip.  Was  it  by  plot,  or  chance  of  some  disease  ?     98° 

Mess.  An  old  man's  frame  a  little  stroke  lays  low. 

(Edip.  By  some  disease,  'twould  seem,  he  met  his  death  ? 

Mess.  Yes,  that,  and  partly  worn  by  lingering  age. 

(Edip.  Ha  !  ha  !     Why   now,  my  queen,  should  we 

regard 

The  Pythian  hearth  oracular,  or  birds 
In  mid-air  crying  p1     By  their  auguries, 
I  was  to  slay  my  father.     And  he  dies, 
And  the  grave  hides  him  ;  and  I  find  myself 

1  The  "  Pythian  hearth,"  with  special  reference  to  the  apparent 
failure  of  the  Delphic  oracle  ;  "birds,"  to  that  of  the  auguries  of 
Teiresias 


(fcDIPUS   THE    KING 

Handling  no  sword  ;  .  .  .  unless  for  love  of  me 
He  pined  away,  and  so  I  caused  his  death. 
So  Polybos  is  gone,  and  bears  with  him, 
In  Hades  'whelmed,  those  worthless  oracles. 

Joe.  Did  I  not  tell  thee  this  long  time  ago  ? 

(Edip.  Thou  did'st,  but  I  was  led  away  by  fears. 

Joe.  Dismiss  them,  then,  for  ever  from  thy  thoughts  ! 

(Edip.  And  yet  that  "  incest "  ;  must  I  not  fear  that  ? 

Joe.  Why  should  we  fear,  when  chance  rules  everything, 
And  foresight  of  the  future  there  is  none  ; 
'Tis  best  to  live  at  random,  as  one  can. 
But  thou,  fear  not  that  marriage  with  thy  mother  :       9M 
Many  ere  now  have  dreamt  of  things  like  this, 
But  who  cares  least  about  them  bears  life  best. 

(Edip.  Right  well  thou  speakest  all  things,  save  that  she 
Still  lives  that  bore  me,  and  I  can  but  fear, 
Seeing  that  she  lives,  although  thou  speakest  well. 

Joe.  And  yet  great  light  comes  from  thy  father's  grave. 

(Edip.  Great  light  I  own  ;  yet  while  she  lives  I  fear. 

Mess.  Who  is  this  woman  about  whom  ye  fear  ? 

(Edip,  'Tis  Merope,  old  sir,  who  lived  with  Polybos. 

Mess.  And  what  leads  you  to  think  of  her  with  fear  ?  98° 

(Edip.  A  fearful  oracle,  my  friend,  from  God. 

Mess.  Can'st  tell  it  ?  or  must  others  ask  in  vain  I 

(Edip.  Most  readily  :  for  Loxias  said  of  old 
That  I  should  with  my  mother  wed,  and  then 
With  mine  own  hands  should  spill  my  father's  blood. 
And  therefore  Corinth  long  ago  I  left, 
And  journeyed  far,  right  prosperously  I  own  ; — • 
And  yet  'tis  sweet  to  see  one's  parents'  face. 

Mess.  And  did  this  fear  thy  steps  to  exile  lead  ?       100° 

(Edip.  I  did  not  wish  to  take  my  father's  life. 

Mess.  Why,  then,  O  king,  did  I,  with  good-will  come, 
Not  free  thee  from  this  fear  that  haunts  thy  soul  ? 

(Edip.  Yes,  and  for  this  thou  shalt  have  worthy  thanks. 

Mess.  For  this,  indeed,  I  chiefly  came  to  thee; 
53 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

That  I  on  thy  return  might  prosper  well. 

(Edip.  And  yet  1  will  not  with  a  parent  meet. 

M ess.  Tis  clear,  my  son,  thou  know'st  not  what  thou 

dost. 

(Edip.  What  is't  ?   By  all  the  Gods,  old  man,  speak  out. 
Mess.  If  'tis  for  them  thou  fearest  to  return  .  .  .     '01° 
(Edip.  I  fear  lest  Phoebos  prove  himself  too  true. 
Mess.  Is  it  lest  thou  should'st  stain  thy  soul  through 

them  ? 

(Edip.  This  self-same  fear,  old  man,  for  ever  haunts  me. 
Mess.  And  know'st  thou  not  there  is  no  cause  for  fear  ? 
(Edip.  Is  there  no  cause  if  I  was  born  their  son  ? 
Mess.  None  is  there.     Polybos  was  nought  to  thee. 
(Edip.  What  say'st  thou  ?    Did  not  Polybos  beget  me  ? 
Mess.  No  more  than  he  thou  speak'st  to  ;  just  as  much. 
(Edip.  How  could  a  father's  claim  become  as  nought  ? 
Mess.  Well,  neither  he  begat  thee  nor  did  I. 
(Edip.  Why  then  did  he  acknowledge  me  as  his  ? 
Mess.  He  at  my  hands  received  thee  as  a  gift. 
(Edip.  And  could  he  love  another's  child  so  much  ? 
Mess.  Yes  ;    for  his  former  childlessness  wrought  on 

him. 

(Edlf.  And  gav'st  thou  me  as  foundling  or  as  bought? 
Mess.  I  found  thee  in  Kithaeron's  shrub-grown  hollow. 
(Edip.  And  for  what  cause  did'st  travel  thitherwards  ? 
Mess.  I  had  the  charge  to  tend  the  mountain  flocks. 
(Edip.  Wast  thou  a  shepherd,  then,  and  seeking  hire  ? 
Mess.  E'en  so,  my  son,  and  so  I  saved  thee  then.     ' 
(Edip.  What  evil  plight  then  did'st  thou  find  me  in  ? 
Mess.  The  sinews  of  thy  feet  would  tell  that  tale. 
(Edip.  Ah,  me  !    why  speak'st  thou  of  that  ancient 

wrong  ? 

Mess.  1  freed  thee  when  thy  insteps  both  were  pierced. 
(Edip.  A  foul  disgrace  I  had  in  swaddling-clothes. 
Mtss.  Thus  from  this  chance  there  came  the  name  thou 

bearest. 

54 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

(Edip.  [Starting.]  Who  gave  the  name,  my  father  or 
my  mother  ? 

Mess.  I  know  not.     He  who  gave  thee  better  knows. 

(Edip.  Did'st  thou  then  take  me  from  another's  hand, 
Not  finding  me  thyself  ? 

Mess.  Not  I,  indeed  ; 

Another  shepherd  made  a  gift  of  thee. 

(Edip.  Who  was  he?    Know'st  thou  how  to  point  him 
out  ? 

Mess.  They  called  him  one  of  those  that  Laios  owned. 

CEdip.  Mean'st  thou  the  former  sovereign  of  this  land  ? 

Mess.  E'en  so.    He  fed  the  flocks  of  him  thou  nam'st. 

(Edip.  And  is  he  living  still  that  I  might  see  him  ? 

Mess.  You,  his  own  countrymen,  should  know  that 
best. 

(Edip.  Is  there  of  you  who  stand  and  listen  here 
One  who  has  known  the  shepherd  that  he  tells  of, 
Or  seeing  him  upon  the  hills  or  here  ? 
If  so,  declare  it ;  'tis  full  time  to  know. 

Ckor.  I  think  that  this  is  he  whom  from  the  fields 
But  now  thou  soughtest.     But  Jocasta  here 
Could  tell  thee  this  with  surer  word  than  I. 

(Edip.  Think'st  thou,  my  queen,  the  man  whom  late 

we  sent  for 
Is  one  with  him  of  whom  this  stranger  speaks  ? 

Joe.  [With  forced  calmness.]  Whom  did  he  speak  of? 

Care  not  thou  for  it, 
Nor  even  wish  to  keep  his  words  in  mind. 

(Edip.  I  cannot  fail,  once  getting  on  the  scent, 
To  track  at  last  the  secret  of  my  birth. 

Joe.  Ah,  by  the  Gods,  if  that  thou  valuest  life        108° 
Inquire  no  more.     My  misery  is  enough. 

(Edip.  Take  heart ;  though  I  should  prove  thrice  base- 
born  slave, 

Born  of  thrice  base-born  mother,  thou  art  still 
Free  from  all  stain. 

55 


OEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Joe.  Yet,  I  implore  thee,  pause! 

Vield  to  my  counsels,  do  not  do  this  deed. 

(Edip.  I  may  not  yield,  nor  fail  to  search  it  out. 

Joe.  And  yet  best  counsels  give  I,  for  thy  good. 

GLdip.  What  thou  call'st  best  has  long  been  grief  to 
me. 

Joe.  May'st  thou  ne'er  know,  ill-starred  one,  who  thou 
art! 

GLdip.  Will  some  one  bring  that  shepherd  to  me  here  ? 
Leave  her  to  glory  in  her  high  descent. 

Joe.  Woe  !  woe  !  ill-fated  one  !  my  last  word  this, 
This  only,  and  no  more  for  evermore.  [Rushes  out. 

Chor.  Why  has  thy  queen,  O  CEdipus,  gone  forth 
In  her  wild  sorrow  rushing  ?     Much  I  fear 
Lest  from  such  silence  evil  deeds  burst  out. 

(Edip.  Burst  out  what  will ;  I  seek  to  know  my  birth, 
Low  though  it  be.  and  she  perhaps  is  shamed 
(For,  like  a  woman,  she  is  proud  of  heart) 
At  thoughts  of  my  low  birth  ;  but  I,  who  count 
Myself  the  child  of  Fortune,  fear  no  shame  ; 
My  mother  she,  and  she  has  prospered  me. 
And  so  the  months  that  span  my  life  have  made  me 
Both  low  and  high  ;  but  whatsoe'er  I  be, 
Such  as  I  am  1  am,  and  needs  must  on 
To  fathom  all  the  secret  of  my  birth. 

STROPHK 
Chor.  If  the  seer's  gift  be  mine, 

Or  skill  in  counsel  wise, 
Thou,  O  Kithaeron,  by  Olympos  high, 

When  next  our  full  moon  comes, 

Shalt  fail  not  to  resound 
With  cry  that  greets  thee,  fellow-citizen, 

Mother  and  nurse  of  CEdipus  ; 
And  we  will  on  thee  weave  our  choral  dance, 
As  bringing  to  our  princes  glad  good  news. 


(EDIPUS   THE   KING 

Hail,  hail !  O  Phoebos,  grant  that  what  we  do 
May  meet  thy  favouring  smile. 

ANTISTROPHK 

Who  was  it  bore  thee,  child,1 

Of  Nymphs  whose  years  are  long, 
Or  drawing  near  the  mighty  Father,  Pan, 

Who  wanders  o'er  the  hills, 

Or  Loxias'  paramour, 
Who  loves  the  high  lawns  of  the  pasturing  flocks  ? 

Or  was  it  He  who  rules 
Kyllene's  height  ;  or  did  the  Bacchic  god, 
Whose  dwelling  is  upon  the  mountain  peaks, 
Receive  thee,  gift  of  Heliconian  nymphs, 

With  whom  He  loves  to  sport  ? 
(Edip.  If  I  must  needs  conjecture,  who  as  yet 
Ne'er  met  the  man,  I  think  I  see  the  shepherd, 
Whom  this  long  while  we  sought  for.     In  his  age 
He  this  man  matches.     And  I  see  besides, 
My  servants  bring  him.     Thou  perchance  can'st  speak 
From  former  knowledge  yet  more  certainly. 

Chor.  I  know  him,  king,  be  sure  ;  for  this  man  stood, 
If  any,  known  as  Laios'  herdsman  true. 

Enter  Shepherd. 

(Edip,  Thee  first  I  ask,  Corinthian  stranger,  say, 
Is  this  the  man  ? 

Mfss.  The  very  man  thou  seek'st.  11JO 

(Edip.  Ho  there  !  old  man.  Come  hither,  look  on  me, 
And  tell  me  all.  Did  Laios  own  thee  once  ? 

Shep.  His  slave  I  was,  not  bought,  but  reared  at  home. 

1  The  Chorus,  thinking  only  of  the  wonder  of  CEdipus's  birth, 
plays  with  the  conjecture  that  he  is  the  offspring  of  the  Gods,  of 
Pan,  the  God  of  the  hills,  or  Apollo,  the  prophet  God,  or  Hermes, 
worshipped  on  Kyllene  in  Arcadia ;  or  Bacchos,  roaming  on  the 
big!  est  peaks  of  Parnassos.  The  Heliconian  nymphs  are.  of  course, 
the  Muses. 

57 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

(Edip.  What  was  thy  work,  or  what  thy  mode  of  life  ? 
Shep.  Near  all  my  life  I  followed  with  the  flock. 
(Edip,  And  in  what  regions  did'st  thou  chiefly  dwell  ? 
Shep.  Now  'twas  Kithaeron,    now    on    neighbouring 

fields. 
(Edip.  Know'st  thou  this  man  ?     Did'st  ever  see  him 

there  ? 

Shep.  What  did  he  do  ?    Of  what  man  speakest  thou  ? 
(Edip.  This  man  now  present.    Did  ye  ever  meet  ? nso 
Shep.  I  cannot  say  oft-hand  from  memory. 
Mess.  No  wonder  that,  my  lord.    But  I  '11  remind  him 
Right  well  of  things  forgotten.     Well  I  know 
He  needs  must  know  when  on  Kithaeron's  fields, 
He  with  a  double  flock,  and  I  with  one, 
f  was  his  neighbour  during  three  half  years, 
From  springtide  till  Arcturos  rose  ;  and  I 
In  winter  to  mine  own  fold  drove  my  flocks, 
And   he    to   those  of  Laios.     [To    Shepherd]  Answer 

me, 
Speak  I,  or  speak  I  not,  the  thing  that  was  ? 

Shep.  Thou  speak'st  the  truth,  although  long  years 

have  passed. 
Men.  Come,  then,  say  on.     Dost  know  thou  gav'st  me 

once 
A  boy,  that  I  might  rear  him  as  my  child  ? 

Shep.  What  means  this  ?     Wherefore  askest  thou  of 

that  ? 

Mess.  Here  stands  he,  fellow  !   that  same  tiny  boy. 
Shep.  A  curse  befall  thee  !     Wilt  not  hold  thy  tongue  ? 
(Edip.  Rebuke    him  not,  old  man  ;  thy  words   need 

more 
The  language  of  rebuker  than  do  his. 

Shep.  Say,  good  my  lord,  what  fault  do  I  commit  ? 
(Edip.  This,  that  thou  tell'st  not  of  the  child  he  asks 

for. 

Shep.  Yes,  for  he  nothing  knows,  and  wastes  his  pains. 
58 


CEDJPUS   THE   KING 

(Edip.  For   favour    thou    speak'st    not,  but  shait  for 

pain.  .  .  .  [Strikes  him. 

Step.  By  all  the  Gods,  hurt  not  an  old  man  weak. 
(Edip.  Will  no  one  bind  his  hands  behind  his  back  .?1 
Shep.  Oh  wretched  me  !     And  what  then  wilt  thou 

learn  ? 

(Edip.  Gav'st  thou  this  man  the  boy  of  whom  he  asks  ? 
Shep.  I  gave  him.     Would  that  I  that  day  had  died. 
(Edip.  Soon  thou  wilt  come  to  that  if  thou  speak'st 

wrong. 

Step.  Nay,  much  more  shall  I  perish  if  I  speak. 
(Edip.  This  fellow,  as  it  seems,  would  tire  us  out.    llflo 
Shep.  Not  so.     I  said  long  since  I  gave  it  him. 
(Edip.  Whence  came  it  \    Was  the  child  thine  own  or 

not  ? 

Shep.  Mine  own  'twas  not,  from  some  one  else  I  had  it. 
(Edip.  Which  of  our  people,  or  from  out  what  home  ? 
Shep.  Oh,  by  the  Gods,  my  master,  ask  no  more  ! 
(Efiip.  Thou  diestif  I  question  this  again. 
Shep.  Some  one  it  was  of  Laios'  household  born. 
(Edip.  Was  it  a  slave,  or  some  one  kin  to  him  i 
Shep.  Ah  me,  I  stand  upon  the  very  brink 
Where  most  I  dread  to  speak. 

(Edip.  And  I  to  hear : 

And  yet  I  needs  must  hear  it,  come  what  may.  "70 

Shep.  The  boy  was  said  to  be  his  son  ;  but  she, 
Thy  queen  within,  could  tell  the  whole  truth  best. 
(Edip.   What !  was  it  she  who  gave  it  f 
Shep.  Yea,  O  king  ! 

(Edip.  And  to  what  end  ? 

Shep.  To  make  away  with  it. 

(Edip.  And  dared  a  mother  .  .  .  ? 
Shep.  Auguries  dark  she  feared. 

(Edip.  What  were  they  ? 

1  Sc.,  Will  no  one  scourge  him  at  my  command,  and  make  him 
confess  ? 

59 


CED1PUS  THE    KING 

Shep.  E'en  that  he  his  sire  should  kill. 

CEdip.  Why  then  did'st  thou  to  this  old  man  resign 
him  ? 

Shep.  I  pitied  him,  O  master,  and  I  thought 
That  he  would  bear  him  to  another  land, 
Whence  he  himself  had  come.     But  him  he  saved 
For  direst  evil.     For  if  thou  be  he 
Whom  this  man  speaks  of,  thou  art  evil-starred. 

CEJip.  Woe  !  woe  !  woe !  woe  !  al)  cometh  clear  at  last. 
O  light,  may  this  my  last  glance  be  on  thee, 
Who  now  am  seen  owing  my  birth  to  those 
To  whom  I  ought  not,  and  with  whom  I  ought  not 
In  wedlock  living,  whom  I  ought  not  slaying.         [Exit. 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  Ah,  race  of  mortal  men, 
How  as  a  thing  of  nought 
I  count  ye,  though  ye  live  ; 
For  who  is  there  of  men 
That  more  of  blessing  knows, 
Than  just  a  little  while 
To  seem  to  prosper  well, 
And,  having  seemed,  to  fall  ? 
With  thee  as  pattern  given, 
Thy  destiny,  e'en  thine, 
Ill-fated  CEdipus, 
I  count  nought  human  blest. 

ANTISTROPIIE  I 

For  he,  with  wondrous  skill, 
Taking  his  aim,  did  hit 
Success,  in  all  things  blest  ; 
And  did,  O  Zeus  !  destroy 
The  Virgin  with  claws  bent, 
And  sayings  wild  and  dark  ; 
And  against  many  deaths 
A  tower  and  strong  defence 
69 


CEDIPUS   THE    KING 

Did  for  my  country  rise  : 

And  so  thou  king  art  named, 

With  highest  glory  crowned, 

Ruling  in  mighty  Thebes. 

STROPHE  II 

And  now,  who  lives  than  thou  more  miserable  ? 
Who  equals  thee  in  wild  woes  manifold, 

In  shifting  turns  of  life  ? 

Ah,  noble  one,  our  QEdipus  ! 

For  whom  the  same  wide  harbour 

Sufficed  for  sire  and  son, 

In  marriage  rites  to  enter  : 

Ah  how,  ah,  wretched  one, 

How  could  thy  father's  bed 

Receive  thee,  and  so  long, 

Even  till  now,  be  dumb  ? 
ANTISTROPHE  III 

Time,  who  sees  all  things,  he  hath  found  thee  out, 
Against  thy  will,  and  long  ago  condemned 
The  wedlock  none  may  wed, 

Begetter  and  begotten. 

Ah,  child  of  Laios !  would 

I  ne'er  had  seen  thy  face  ! 

I  mourn  with  wailing  lips, 

Mourn  sore  exceedingly. 

'Tis  simplest  truth  to  say, 

By  thee  from  death  I  rose,  "** 

By  thee  in  death  I  sleep. 

Enter  Second  Messenger. 

Sec.  Mess.  Ye  chieftains,  honoured  most  in  this  our  land 
What  deeds  ye  now  will  hear  of,  what  will  see, 
How  great  a  wailing  will  ye  raise,  if  still 
Ye  truly  love  the  house  of  Labdacos  ! 
For  sure  I  think  that  neither  Istros'  stream 
61 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Nor  Phasis'  floods  could  purify  this  house,1 
Such  horrors  does  it  hold.     But  soon  'twill  show 
Evils  self-chosen,  not  without  free  choice  :  mo 

These  self-sought  sorrows  ever  pain  men  most. 

Chor.  The  ills  we  knew  before  lacked  nothing  meet 
For  plaint  and  moaning.    Now,  what  add'st  thou  more  ? 

Sec.  Mess.  Quickest  forme  to  speak,  and  thee  to  learn  ; 
Our  sacred  queen  Jocasta, — she  is  dead. 

Chor.    Ah,  crushed  with  many  sorrows  !     How  and 
why? 

Sec.  Mess.  Herself  she  slew.     The  worst  of  all  that 

passed 

I  must  omit,  for  none  were  there  to  see. 
Yet,  far  as  memory  suffers  me  to  speak, 
That  sorrow-stricken  woman's  end  I  '11  tell ;  Kta 

For  when  to  passion  yielding,  on  she  passed 
Within  the  porch,  straight  to  the  couch  she  rushed, 
Her  bridal  bed,  with  both  hands  tore  her  hair, 
And  as  she  entered,  dashing  through  the  doors, 
Calls  on  her  Laios,  dead  long  years  ago, 
Remembering  that  embrace  of  long  ago, 
Which  brought  him  death,  and  left  to  her  who  bore, 
With  his  own  son  a  hateful  motherhood. 
And  o'er  her  bed  she  wailed,  where  she  had  borne 
Spouse  to  her  spouse,  and  children  to  her  child  ;         Ui* 
And  how  she  perished  after  this  I  know  not ; 
For  QEdipus  struck  in  with  woeful  cry, 
And  we  no  longer  looked  upon  her  fate, 
But  gazed  on  him  as  to  and  fro  he  rushed. 
For  so  he  raves,  and  asks  us  for  a  sword, 
Wherewith  to  smite  the  wife  that  wife  was  none, 
The  womb  polluted  with  accursed  births, 
Himself,  his  children, — so,  as  thus  he  raves, 
Some  spirit  shows  her  to  him,  (none  of  us, 
Who  stood  hard  by  had  done  so)  :  with  a  shout 

1  Istros  as  the  great  river  of  Europe,  Phasis  of  Asia. 
62 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Most  terrible,  as  some  one  led  him  on, 

Through  the  two  gates  he  leapt,  and  from  the  wards 

He  slid  the  hollow  bolt,  and  rushes  in  ; 

And  there  we  saw  his  wife  had  hung  herself, 

By  twisted  cords  suspended.     When  her  form 

He  saw,  poor  wretch  !  with  one  wild,  fearful  cry, 

The  twisted  rope  he  loosens,  and  she  fell, 

Ill-starred  one,  on  the  ground.     Then  came  a  sight 

Most  fearful.     Tearing  from  her  robe  the  clasps, 

All  chased  with  gold,  with  which  she  decked  herself, 

He  with  them  struck  the  pupils  of  his  eyes,  1!7° 

With  words  like  these — "  Because  they  had  not  seen 

What  ills  he  suffered  and  what  ills  he  did, 

They  in  the  dark  should  look,  in  time  to  come, 

On  those  whom  they  ought  never  to  have  seen, 

Nor  know  the  dear  ones  whom  he  fain  had  known." 

With  such  like  wails,  not  once  or  twice  alone, 

Raising  his  eyes,  he  smote  them,  and  the  balls, 

All  bleeding,  stained  his  cheek,  nor  poured  they  forth 

Gore  drops  slow  trickling,  but  the  purple  shower 

Fell  fast  and  full,  a  pelting  storm  of  blood. 

Such  were  the  ills  that  sprang  from  both  of  them, 

Not  on  one  only,  wife  and  husband  both.  1KO 

His  ancient  fortune,  which  he  held  of  old, 

Was  truly  fortune  :  but  for  this  day's  doom 

Wailing  and  woe,  and  death  and  shame,  all  forms 

That  man  can  name  of  evil,  none  have  failed. 

Chor.  What  rest  from  suffering  hath  the  poor  wretch 
now  ? 

Sec.  Mess.  He  calls  to  us  to  ope  the  bolts,  and  show 
To  all  in  Thebes  his  father's  murderer, 
His  mother's  .  .  .  Foul  and  fearful  were  the  words 
He  spoke  ;  I  dare  not  speak  them.     Then  he  said 
That  he  would  cast  himself  adrift,  nor  stay  129° 

At  home  accursed,  as  himself  had  cursed. 
Some  stay  he  surely  needs,  or  guiding  hand, 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

For  greater  is  the  ill  than  he  can  bear, 
And  this  he  soon  will  show  thee,  for  the  bolts 
Of  the  two  gates  are  opening,  and  thou  'It  see 
A  sight  to  touch  e'en  hatred's  self  with  pity. 

The  doon  of  the  Palace  are  thrown  ofta,  and  CEoiPus  it 

seen  within. 
Chor.  Oh,  fearful  sight  for  men  to  look  upon ! 

Most  fearful  of  all  woes 

1  hitherto  have  known  !     What  madness  strange 
Has  come  on  thee,  thou  wretched  one  ? 
What  Power  with  one  fell  swoop, 
Ills  heaping  upon  ills, 
Than  greatest  greater  yet, 
Has  marked  thee  for  its  prey  ? 

Woe  !  woe  !   thou  doomed  one,  wishing  much  to  ask, 
And  much  to  learn,  and  much  to  gaze  into, 
I  cannot  look  on  thee, 
So  horrible  the  sight  ! 
GLdip.  Ah,  woe  !  ah,  woe  !  ah,  woe  ! 

Woe  for  my  misery  ! 
Where  am  I  wandering  in  my  utter  woe  f 

Where  floats  my  voice  in  air  ? 

Dread  Power,  with  crushing  might  1S1° 

Thou  leaped'st  on  my  head. 

Chor.  Yea,   with  dread  doom    nor  sight  nor  speech 

may  bear. 

GLdip.  O  cloud  of  darkness,  causing  one  to  shrink, 
That  onward  sweeps  with  dread  ineffable, 
Resistless,  borne  along  by  evil  blast, 

Woe,  woe,  and  woe  again  ! 

How  through  me  darts  the  throb  these  clasps  have  caused, 
And  memory  of  my  ills. 

Chor.  And  who  can  wonder  that  in  such  dire  woes 
Thou  mournest  doubly,  bearing  twofold  ills  ?  llw 

GLdip.  Ah,  friend, 

64 


OEDIPUS   THE   KING 

Thou  only  keepest  by  me,  faithful  found, 
Nor  dost  the  blind  one  slight. 

Woe,  woe, 

For  thou  escap'st  me  not ;  I  clearly  know, 
Though  all  is  dark,  at  least  that  voice  of  thine. 

Chor.  O    man    of   fearful  deeds,  how  could'st    thou 

bear 
Thine  eyes  to  outrage  ?    What  Power  stirred  thee  to  it  ? 

(Edip.  Apollo,  oh,  my  friends,  the  God,  Apollo, 
Who  worketh  out  all  these,  my  bitter  woes  : 
Vet  no  man's  hand  but  mine  has  smitten  them. 

What  need  for  me  to  see, 

When  nothing's  left  that's  sweet  to  look  upon  ? 
Chor.  Too  truly  dost  thou  speak  the  thing  that  is. 
(Edip.  Yea,  what  remains  to  see, 
Or  what  to  love,  or  hear, 
With  any  touch  of  joy  ? 

Lead  me  away,  my  friends,  with  utmost  speed 
Lead  me  away,  the  foul  polluted  one, 
Of  all  men  most  accursed, 
Most  hateful  to  the  Gods. 

Chor.  Ah,  wretched  one,  alike  in  soul  and  doom, 
I  fain  could  wish  that  I  had  never  known  thee. 
(Edip.  Ill  fate  be  his  who  from  the  fetters  freed 

*The  child  upon  the  hills, 
*And  rescued  me  from  death, 

And  saved  me, — thankless  boon ! 
Ah!  had  I  died  but  then, 
Nor  to  my  friends  nor  me  had  been  such  woe. 
Chor.  I,  too,  could  fain  wish  that. 
(Edip.  Yes ;  then  I  had  not  been 

My  father's  murderer : 
Nor  had  men  pointed  to  me  as  the  man 

Wedded  with  her  who  bore  him. 
But  now  all  godless,  born  of  impious  stock, 
In  incest  joined  with  her  who  gave  me  birth  ; — 
i  65  * 


GEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Yea,  if  there  be  an  evil  worse  than  all, 
It  falls  on  QEdipus ! 

Chor.  I  may  not  say  that  thou  art  well-advised, 
For  better  wert  thou  dead  than  living  blind. 

CEdip.  Persuade  me  not,  nor  counsel  give  to  show 
That  what  I  did  was  not  the  best  to  do.  lsro 

I  know  not  with  what  eyes,  in  Hades  dark, 
To  look  on  mine  own  father  or  my  mother, 
When  I  against  them  both,  alas !  have  done 
Deeds  for  which  strangling  were  too  light  a  doom. 
My  children's  face,  forsooth,  was  sweet  to  see, 
Their  birth  being  what  it  was ;  nay,  nay,  not  so 
To  these  mine  eyes,  nor  yet  this  town,  nor  tower, 
Nor  sacred  shrines  of  Gods  whence  I,  who  stood 
Most  honoured  one  in  Thebes,  myself  have  banished, 18W 
Commanding  all  to  thrust  the  godless  forth, 
Him  whom  the  Gods  do  show  accursed,  the  stock 
Of  Laios  old.     And  could  I  dare  to  look, 
Such  dire  pollution  fixing  on  myself, 
And  meet  these  face  to  face  ?     Not  so,  not  so. 
Yea,  if  I  could  but  stop  the  stream  of  sound, 
And  dam  mine  ears  against  it,  I  would  do  it, 
Sealing  my  carcase  vile,  that  I  might  live 
Both  blind,  and  hearing  nothing.     Sweet  'twould  be 
To  keep  my  soul  beyond  the  reach  of  ills. 
Why,  O  Kithaeron,  did'st  thou  shelter  me, 
Nor  kill  me  out  of  hand?     I  had  not  shown, 
In  that  case,  all  men  whence  I  drew  my  birth. 
O  Polybos,  and  Corinth,  and  the  home 
Of  old  called  mine,  how  strange  a  growth  ye  reared, 
All  fair  outside,  all  rotten  at  the  core ; 
For  vile  ^  stand,  descended  from  the  vile. 
Ye  threefold  roads  and  thickets  half  concealed, 
The  copse,  the  narrow  pass  where  three  ways  meet, 
Which  at  my  hands  did  drink  my  father's  blood, 
Remember  ye,  what  deeds  I  did  in  you, 
66 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

What,  hither  come,  I  did? — O  marriage  rites 

That  gave  me  birth,  and,  having  borne  me,  gave 

To  me  in  turn  an  offspring,  and  ye  showed 

Fathers,  and  sons,  and  brothers,  all  in  one, 

Mothers,  and  wives,  and  daughters,  hateful  names, 

All  foulest  deeds  that  men  have  ever  done. 

But,  since,  where  deeds  are  evil,  speech  is  wrong, 

With  utmost  speed,  by  all  the  Gods,  or  slay  me, 

Or  drive  me  forth,  or  hide  me  in  the  sea, 

Where  never  more  your  eyes  may  look  on  me. 

Come,  scorn  ye  not  to  touch  a  wretch  like  me, 

But  hearken  ;  fear  ye  not ;  no  soul  save  me 

Can  bear  the  burden  of  my  countless  ills. 

But  ye,  if  ye  have  lost  your  sense  of  shame 

For  mortal  men,  yet  reverence  the  light 

Of  him,  our  King,  the  Sun-God,  source  of  life, 

Nor  sight  so  foul  expose  unveiled  to  view, 

Which  neither  earth,  nor  shower  from  heaven,  nor  light, 

Can  see  and  welcome.     But  with  utmost  speed 

Convey  me  in  ;  for  nearest  kin  alone 

Can  meetly  see  and  hear  their  kindred's  ills.1 

Char.  The  man  for  what  thou  need'st  is  come  in  time, 
Creon,  to  counsel,  and  to  act,  for  now 
He  in  thy  stead  is  left  our  state's  one  guide.2 

(Edip.  Ah,  me !  what  language  shall  I  hold  to  him, 
What  trust  at  his  hands  claim  ?     In  all  the  past 
I  showed  myself  to  him  most  vile  and  base. 

Enter  CREON. 

Creon.  I  have  not  come,  O  CEdipus,  to  scorn, 
Nor  to  reproach  thee  for  thy  former  crimes. 

(Edip.  Oh,  by  the  Gods!  si  nee  thou,  beyond  my  hopes,1430 

1  I  follow  Schneidewin  in  transferring  the  last  lines  from  Creon 
(after  1430)  to  CEdipus. 

-  The  two  sons  of  CEdipus,  Polyneikes  and  Eteocles,  the  Chorus 
thinks  of  as  too  young  to  reign. 


(EDIPUS   THE   KING 

Dost  come  all  noble  unto  me  all  base, 

One  favour  grant.     I  seek  thy  good,  not  mine. 

Creon.  And  what  request  seek'st  thou  so  wistfully  ? 

(Edip.  Cast  me  with  all  thy  speed  from  out  this  land, 
Where  nevermore  a  man  may  speak  to  me ! 

Creon.  Be  sure,  I  would  have  done  so,  but  I  wished 
To  learn  what  now  the  God  will  bid  us  do. 

(Edip.  The  oracle  was  surely  clear  enough 
That  I  the  parricide,  the  pest,  should  die. 

Creon.  So  ran  the  words.     But  in  our  present  need 
Tis  better  to  learn  surely  what  to  do. 

(Edip.  And  will  ye  ask  for  one  so  vile  as  I  ? 

Creon.  Yea,  thou,  too,  now  would'st  trust  the  voice  of 
God. 

(Edip.  And  this  I  charge  thee,  yea,  and  supplicate ; 
For  her  within,  provide  what  tomb  thou  wilt, 
For  for  thine  own  most  meetly  thou  wilt  care  ; 
But  never  let  this  city  of  my  fathers 
Be  sentenced  to  receive  me  as  its  guest ; 
But  suffer  me  on  yon  lone  hills  to  dwell, 
On  my  Kithasron,  destined  for  my  tomb, 
While  still  I  lived,  by  mother  and  by  sire, 
That  I  may  die  by  those  who  sought  to  kill, 
^nd  yet  this  much  I  know,  that  no  disease, 
Nor  aught  else  could  have  killed  me  ;  ne'er  from  death 
Had  I  been  saved  but  for  some  evil  dread. 
\s  for  our  fate,  let  it  go  where  it  will ; 
But  for  my  children,  of  my  boys,  O  Creon, 
Take  thou  no  thought ;  as  men  they  will  not  feel, 
Where'er  they  be,  the  lack  of  means  to  live. 
But  for  my  two  poor  girls,  all  desolate, 
To  whom  my  table  never  brought  a  meal 
Without  my  presence,  but  whate'er  I  touched 
They  still  partook  of  with  me  ; — care  for  these  ; 
Yea,  let  me  touch  them  with  my  hands,  and  weep 
With  them  my  sorrows.     Grant  it,  O  my  prince, 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

0  born  of  noble  nature  ! 

Could  I  but  touch  them  with  my  hands,  I  feel 
Still  I  should  have  them  mine,  as  when  I  saw. 

Enter  ANTIGONE  and  ISMENE. 

What  say  I  ?     What  is  this  ? 
Do  I  not  hear,  ye  Gods,  their  dear,  loved  tones, 
Broken  with  sobs,  and  Creon,  pitying  me, 
Hath  sent  the  dearest  of  my  children  to  me  ? 
Is  it  not  so  ? 

Creon.  It  is  so.     I  am  he  who  gives  thee  this, 
Knowing  the  joy  thou  had'st  in  them  of  old. 

(Edip.  A  blessing  on  thee  !     May  the  Powers  on  hig'ii 
Guard  thy  path  better  than  they  guarded  mine  ! 
Where  are  ye,  O  my  children  ?     Come,  oh,  come       U8° 
To  these  your  brother's  hands,  that  now  have  brought 
Your  father's  once  bright  eyes  to  this  fell  pass, 
Who,  O  my  children,  blind  and  knowing  nought, 
Became  your  father  e'en  by  her  who  bore  me. 

1  weep  for  you,  (for  sight  is  mine  no  more,) 
Picturing  in  mind  the  sad  and  dreary  life 
Which  waits  you  at  men's  hands  in  years  to  come  ; 
For  to  what  friendly  gatherings  will  ye  go, 

Or  solemn  feasts,  from  whence,  for  all  the  joy 
And  pride,  ye  shall  not  home  return  in  tears  ? 
And  when  ye  come  to  marriageable  age, 
Who  is  there,  O  my  children,  rash  enough 
To  make  his  own  the  shame  that  then  will  fall, 
Reproaches  on  my  parents,  and  on  yours  ? 
What  evil  fails  us  here  ?     Your  father  killed 
His  father,  and  was  wed  in  incest  foul 
With  her  who  bore  him,  and  you  twain  begat 
Of  her  who  gave  him  birth.     Such  shame  as  this 
Will  men  lay  on  you,  and  who  then  will  dare 
To  make  you  his  in  marriage  ?     None,  not  one,  160° 

My  children  !   but  ye  needs  must  waste  away, 
69 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

Unwedded,  childless.     Thou,  Menoekeus'  sott, 
Since  thou  alone  art  left  a  father  to  them, 
(For  we  their  parents  perish  utterly,) 
Suffer  them  not  to  wander  husbandless, 
Nor  let  thy  kindred  beg  their  daily  bread, 
Nor  make  them  sharers  with  me  in  my  woe  ; 
But  look  on  them  with  pity,  seeing  them 
At  their  age,  but  for  thee,  deprived  of  all. 

0  noble  soul,  I  pray  thee,  touch  my  hand 
In  token  of  consent.     And  ye,  my  girls, 
Had  ye  the  minds  to  hearken  I  would  fain 
Give  ye  much  counsel.     As  it  is,  pray  for  me 
To  live  where'er  is  meet  ;  and  for  yourselves 
A  brighter  life  than  his  ye  call  your  sire. 

Creon.  Enough  of  tears.     Go  thou  within  the  house, 
(Edip.  I  needs  must  yield,  however  hard  it  be. 
Creon.  In  their  right  season  all  things  prosper  best. 
(Edip.  Know'st  thou  my  wish  ? 

Creon.  Speak  and  I  then  shall  know. 

GLdip.  That  thou  should'st  send  me  far  away  from 

home. 

Creon.  Thou  askest  what  the  Gods  alone  can  give. 
(Edip.  As  for  the  Gods,  above  all  men  they  hate  me. 
Creon.  And  therefore  it  may  chance  thou  gain'st  thy 

wish. 

(Edip.  And  dost  thou  promise  ? 
Creon.  When  I  mean  them  not, 

1  am  not  wont  to  utter  idle  words. 

(Edip.  Lead  me,  then,  hence. 

Creon.  Go  thou,  but  leave  the  girls, 

(Edip.  Ah,  take  them  not  from  me  ! 

Creon.  Thou  must  not  thinj 

To  hold  the  sway  in  all  things  all  thy  life  : 
The  sway  thou  had'st  did  not  abide  with  thee. 

Chor.  Ye  men  of  Thebes,  behold  this  CEdipus, 
Who  knew  the  famous  riddle  and  was  noblest, 
70 


CEDIPUS   THE    KING 

Whose  fortune  who  saw  not  with  envious  glances  ? 

And,  lo  !  in  what  a  sea  of  direst  trouble 

He  now  is  plunged.     From  hence  the  lesson  learn  ye, 

To  reckon  no  man  happy  till  ye  witness 

The  closing  day  ;  until  he  pass  the  border 

Which  severs  life  from  death,  unscathed  by  sorrow. 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOSi 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 

CEDIPUS.  CREON.  Prince  0/Thebes. 

ANTIGONE,  \Daughters  of      POLYNEIKES,  son  <y  CEDIPUS. 
ISMENE,       /CEDIPUS.  Athenian  Stranger. 

THESEUS,  King  of  Athens.      Messenger. 

Chorus  of  Old  Men  o/Colonos. 

ARGUMENT.— When  (Edipus  was  no  longer  king,  and 
would  fain  have  left  Thebes  for  ever,  the  people  suffered  him 
not,  for  so  the  Oracle  bade  them.  And  his  children  grew  up 
— two  sons,  Polyneikes  and  Eteocles,  and  two  daughters, 
Ismene  and  Antigone,  under  Creon' s  care,  and  when  his  sons 
came  to  man's  estate,  and  (Edipus  had  grown  calmer,  and 
content  to  abide  in  Thebes,  they  and  Creon  thrust  him  forth, 
a  wanderer  on  the  earth,  lest  he  should  bring  trouble  to  the 
city.  And  many  months  he  journeyed  with  Antigone  over 
Hellas,  begging  their  bread;  but  Ismene,  though  she  loved 
him,  stayed  at  home.  And  the  two  brothers  quarrelled,  and 

1  According  to  the  received  tradition  (see  Introd.,  p.  Ixiv. ),  this 
tragedy  takes  its  place  as  the  poet's  last  work,  and  was  not  per- 
formed till  his  grandson,  Sophocles,  the  son  of  Ariston,  produced 
it  after  his  death.  On  the  conjectural  grounds  (i)  that  Theseus 
was  intended  to  represent  Pericles  ;  and  (2)  that  the  inroad  of 
Creon  upon  Attic  soil  is  the  presage  of  war  with  Thebes,  and  pointed 
to  the  early  events  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  the  time  of  composi- 
tion has  been  fixed  at  B.C.  431,  or  420,  while  the  passages  (919-937), 
which  speak  in  friendlier  tone,  have  been  looked  upon  as  inserted 
after  Thrasybulos  had  rescued  Athens  from  the  Thirty  by  tbf  help 
Of  the  Thebans. 

73 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Eteocles,  the  younger,  drove  forth  Polyneikes,  and  made  him- 
self king.  And  Polyneikes  betook  himself  to  Argos,  and  took 
the  king's  daughter  there  in  marriage,  and  gathered  a  great 
army  wherewith  to  restore  himself  to  the  kingdom.  And  it 
chanced  that  Antigone  and  CEdipus  came  to  Athens,  where 
Theseus  was  then  king,  than  whom  no  man  in  Hellas  was 
braver  or  more  just. 


CEDIPUS    AT   COLONOS 

SCENE. — Near  ATHENS.  The  Acropolis  in  the  distance  to  tht  right.  In 
the  foreground,  a  grove,  fenced  by  a  low  stone  wall,  and  on  tht  left 
an  equestrian  statue  of  COLONOS. 

Enter  CEoiPus  and  ANTIGONE. 

CEdip.  Child  of  a  blind  old  man,  Antigone, 
What  country  reach  we  ?     Whose  the  city  near  \ 
Who  will  receive  the  wanderer,  CEdipus, 
And  give  him,  day  by  day,  his  scanty  needs  ? 
He  asks  but  little  ;  than  that  little,  less 
Most  times  receiving,  finding  that  enough  : 
For  I  have  learnt  contentment  ;  chance  and  change 
Have  taught  me  this,  and  the  long  course  of  time, 
And  the  stout  heart  within  me.     But,  my  child, 
If  that  thou  see'st  a  place  where  I  may  sit, 
On  common  ground,  or  by  the  groves  of  Gods,  w 

There  place  me  ;  prop  me  up,  that  we  may  learn 
Where  now  we  are.  As  strangers  we  have  come, 
To  learn  from  those  that  dwell  as  townsmen  here, 
And  what  we  hear,  in  all  completeness  do. 

Antig.  My  father,  woe-worn  CEdipus  !  afar, 
If  I  see  right,  are  towers  that  shield  a  town  :  * 
This  spot  is  holy,  one  may  clearly  tell, 
Full  as  it  is  of  laurel,  olive,  vine, 
And  many  a  nightingale  within  sings  sweetly.2 

1  The  towers  of  the  Acropol's  are,  as  has  been  said,  visible  from 
Colonos. 

2  The  laurel  indicated  consecration  to  Apollo,  the  olive  to  Athen? 
the  vine  to  Dionysos. 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Rest  thy  limbs  here  upon  this  rough-hewn  rock  ; 

Long  hast  thou  travelled,  for  thine  age,  to-day.  *' 

(Edip.  Place  me  then  here,  and  o'er  the  blind  man 
watch.  \She  leads  him  to  the  seat. 

Antig.  I  do  not  need  to  learn  that  lesson  now. 

(Edip.  And  can'st  thou  tell   me  where  we  take  our 
stand  ? 

Antig.  Athens,  I  know;  but  not  this  very  spot. 

(Edip.  That  every  traveller  told  us,  as  we  came. 

Antig.   But  shall  I  go  and  ask  what  place  it  is  \ 

(Edip.  Do  so,  my  child,  if  men  inhabit  it. 

Antig.   Inhabitants  there  are  ;  and  lo  !  I  think 
I  need  not  go.     One  passes  by  our  way. 

(Edip.  And  is  he  coming  this  way,  hastening  here  ?    M 

Antig.  He  is  close  by  ;  and  what  thou  deem'st  it  right 
To  speak  in  season,  say.  The  man  is  here. 

Enter  Athenian  Stranger. 

(Edip.   My  friend,  from  this  girl  hearing,  who  for  me 
And  for  herself  doth  see,  that  thou  art  come 
A  well-timed  guide,  to  tell  us  where  we  doubt.  .  .  . 

Ath.  Sir.  Before  thou  speakest  further  leave  thy  seat, 
For  here  thou  hold'st  a  place  man  may  not  tread. 

(Edip.  What  is  the  place  ?    To  what  God  consecrate  ? 

Ath.  Str.  Man  comes  not  here,  nor  dwells.    The  God- 
desses, 
Dread  daughters  of  the  Earth  and  Darkness,  claim  it.1     40 

(Edip.  What  solemn  name  should  I  invoke  them  with  ? 

Ath.  Str.  Eumenides,  the  Gentle  Ones,  all  seeing, — 
They  call  them  here.      It  may  be,  other  names 
Befit  them  elsewhere.2 

1  The  parentage  thus  assigned  to  the  Erinnyes  is  significant  as 
an  instance  of  the  tendency  of  Sophocles  to  drop  the  coarser  forms 
of  popular  legends,  such  as  we  find  as  to  their  birth  in  the  Theogony 
of  Hesiod  (1.  185),  and  to  rise  into  loftier  and  purer  thoughts. 

a  Historically  the  name  Eumenides  is  said  to  have  belonged  to 


CEDJPUS    AT    COLONOS 

CEdip.  May  they  then  receive  me, 

Their  suppliant,  gently  :  thus  I  need  not  go, 
Nor  ever  quit  my  station  on  their  ground  ! 

Ath.  Str.  What  means  this  ? 

'Tis  the  omen  of  my  fate. 

Ath.  Str.  And  I,  too,  dare  not  move  thee  from  thy 

seat, 

iVithout  the  state's  command,  before  I  tell 
My  tale,  and  learn  what  it  is  meet  to  do. 

(Edlp.  By  all  the  Gods,  I  charge  thee  scorn  me  not, 
Poor  wanderer  though  I  be  !      But  what  I  ask 
I  pray  thee  tell. 

Ath.  Str.         Speak,  then,  thou  shalt  not  meet, 
As  far  as  my  will  goes,  with  scorn  or  shame. 

(Edlp.  And  what,  then,  is  this  place  to  which  we've 
come  ? 

Ath.  Str.  All  that  I  know  thou  too  shalt  hear   and 

learn  : 

The  ground  all  round  is  sacred,  and  the  dread 
Poseidon  claims  it,  and  the  God  of  fire, 
Titan  Prometheus  ;J  and  the  place  thou  tread'st  on 
Is  called  the  brass-paved  threshold  of  our  land, 
Bulwark  of  Athens.     And  the  neighbouring  fields 
Boast  they  have  yon  Colonos  on  his  horse 
To  be  their  patron  ;  and  they  bear  his  name, 
All  called  alike,  in  honour  of  their  God. 
Such,  stranger,  are  our  glories,  not  in  words 
Shown  chiefly  but  much  more  by  full  resort. 

GLdip.  And  are  there  any  who  inhabit  here  ? 

Slcyon  (Pausan.  ii.  n,  4).  In  Attica  they  were  the  Stuvai,  01 
Dread  Ones.  Appeased  by  the  worship  of  the  Athenians  after  the 
acquittal  of  Orestes,  the  avenging  Erinnyes  became  the  kindly, 
propitious  Eumenides. 

1  Prometheus,  as  the  guardian  deity  of  the  potters,  and  perhaps 
also  of  the  iron-founders,  of  Athens  and  Colonos.  Torch-races  in 
his  honour  were  run  from  his  altar  in  the  Academeia  through  tho 
Keramcikos  to  the  city. 

77 


CEDIPUS    AT   COLONOS 

Ath.  Str.  Ay,  that  there  are,  this  God's  great  name 
who  bear. 

(Edip.  Is  there  a  chief,  or  do  the  people  rule  ? 

Ath.  Str.  Our  city's  king  extends  his  sway  to  us. 

(Edif.  And  who  is  this  that  rules  in  word  and  might  ? 

Ath.  Str.  Theseus  his  name,  the  child  of  ^geus  old. 

(Edip.  Would  one  of  you  go  fetch  him  here  to  me  ?  70 

Ath.  Str.  Simply  to  tell,  or  show  him  why  to  come  ? 

(Edip.  That  he,  a  little  helping,  much  may  gain. 

Ath.  Str.  And  what  help  comes  there  from    a  man 
that's  blind  ? 

(Edip.  The  words  we  spealc  will  see  with  open  eyes. 

Ath.  Str.  Know'st  thou,  my  friend,  in  what  way  not 

to  err, — 

Noble,  as  one  may  see,  but  for  the  fate 
That  Heaven  has  laid  on  thee  ?     Do  thou  stay  here, 
Here  where  I  saw  thee,  while  I  go  and  tell 
The  townsmen  on  this  very  spot,  not  there, 
Up  in  the  city.     They  shall  come  and  judge 
If  thou  should'st  tarry,  or  go  back  again.  [Exit.     *° 

(Edip.  My  child,  and  is  the  stranger  gone  from  us  ? 

Antig.  He  is  gone,  O  my  father.  Thou  may'st  speak 
In  quiet  all  things ;  I  alone  am  near. 

(Edip.  O  dread  and  awful  Beings,  since  to  halt 
On  your  ground  first  I  bent  my  wearied  limbs, 
Be  ye  not  harsh  to  Phcebos,  and  to  me  ; 
For  He,  when  he  proclaimed  my  many  woes, 
Told  of  this  respite,  after  many  years ; 
When  I  should  reach  the  bourn  of  all  my  life, 
That  I  should  claim  a  stranger's  place,  and  sit, 
A  suppliant  at  the  shrine  of  dreaded  Gods,1 
And  then  should  near  the  goal  of  woe-worn  life, 

i  The  Oracle  had  spoken  vaguely,  and  till  now  CEdipus  had  not 
known  who  the  ' '  dreaded  Gods ' '  were.  The  chance  words  of  the 
stranger,  telling  him  of  the  "dread"  daughters  of  the  earth  and 
darkness,  give  him  a  new  ray  of  hope. 


CEDIPUS    AT    COLON  OS 

To  those  who  should  receive  me  bringing  gain  ; 

To  those  who  sent  me — yea,  who  drove  me — evil  ; 

And  that  sure  signs  should  give  me  pledge  of  this, 

Earthquake,  or  thunder,  or  the  flash  of  Zeus. 

And  now  I  know  full  well  it  cannot  be 

But  faithful  omen,  sent  to  me  by  you, 

To  this  grove  brought  me.     Else  I  had  not  first, 

Untasting  wine,  upon  my  way  met  you, 

E'en  you  who  loathe  the  wine-cup,1  nor  had  sat 

On  this  rough,  hallowed  seat.     But,  O  ye  POWCES, 

Grant  me,  according  to  Apollo's  voice, 

An  issue  and  completion  of  my  life  ; 

Unless  it  chance  I  seem  too  low  for  this, 

Of  all  mankind  the  most  enslaved  to  ills. 

Come,  ye  sweet  daughters  of  the  Darkness  old, 

Come,  O  thou  city  bearing  Pallas'  name, 

O  Athens,  of  all  cities  most  renowned, 

Have  pity  on  this  wasted,  spectral  form 

That  once  was  CEdipus.     No  longer  now 

Is  this  my  carcase  what  it  was  of  old.  "° 

Antig,  Hush  !  for  there  come  this  way  some  reverend 

men, 
To  ask  the  meaning  of  thy  sitting  here. 

(Edip.  I  will  be  silent,  and  do  thou  convey 
My  feet  within  the  grove,  till  I  shall  hear 
What  words  they  utter  ;  for  in  learning  this 
We  gather  caution  in  the  things  we  do. 

[Retires  with  ANTIGONE  into  the  grove. 

Enter  Chorus  of  Old  Mtn  ^Colonos. 

1  The  absence  of  wine  from  all  libations  made  to  the  Erinnyes  is 
presupposed  as  known  even  to  the  stranger,  CEdipus.  Later  on 
(481),  it  comes  prominently  into  the  directions  given  him  by  the 
Chorus,  but  is  received  (with  some  slight  inconsistency)  with 
Wonder. 


79 


(EDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

STROPHE  I1 
Chor.  Look  then  !     Who  was  it  ?     Where  his  hiding 

place  ? 

Where  has  he  fled  and  rushed, 
Of  all  men  boldest  found  ?  * 

Look,  search,  seek  everywhere. 
A  stranger — yea,  a  stranger  must  he  be. 
No  countryman  of  ours,  that  blind  old  man  ; 
For  never  else  had  he 
Approached  the  holy  grove, 
By  foot  of  man  untrod, 
Where  dwell  the  Virgin  Ones  invincible, 

Whose  names  we  fear  to  speak. 
Vea,  we  pass  by,  and  dare  not  raise  our  eyes, 
Voiceless  and  speechless  all, 
Uttering  the  whispered  sound 
Of  thought  that  fears  to  speak. 
But  now  the  rumour  spreads 
Of  some  one  hither  come, 
Unmoved  by  touch  of  awe, 
And  yet  around  the  precinct  all  in  vain 
I  search,  and  fail  to  find 
Where  now  his  foot  abides. 

[CEoiPUS  shows  himself. 

(Edip.  I  am  the  man  ;  for  by  the  voice  I  see, 
As  runs  the  adage. 

Chor.  Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  most  dread  to  look  upon,  "° 
Most  dread  to  hear  art  thou. 

(Edip.  Do,  not,  I  pray  you,  deem  me  a  transgressor. 
Chor.  Great  Zeus,  our  shield,  who  may  this  old  man 

be? 

(Edip.  Not  one  to  highest  place 
Of  fair  good  fortune  born, 

1  In  the  performance  of  the  tragedy  the  eager  cries,  guesses, 
questionings  of  the  Chorus  were  uttered  by  its  members  not  together, 
but  speaking  one  by  one. 

So 


OEDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

Ye  rulers  of  the  land. 
This  show  I  all  too  plain,  or  had  not  crept, 

Trusting  to  others'  eyes, 
Nor,  mighty  once,  had  come  to  harbour  here 
With  anchors  poor  and  weak. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Char.  Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  and  wast  thou  born,  alas  ! 
With  those  poor,  sightless  eyes  !  w 

Worn  out  with  many  a  woe, 
And,  as  one  well  may  guess, 
Worn  with  age  too  ;  but  for  my  part,  at  least, 
Thou  shall  not  bring  fresh  curses  on  thyself ; 
Too  far  thou  goest,  too  far. 
But  that  thou  rush  not  on 
Through  voiceless,  grass-grown  grove, 
Where  blends  with  rivulet  of  honeyed  stream,  1<0 

The  cup  of  waters  clear, 

Of  this  beware,  O  man,  weighed  down  with  woe. 
Bestir  thyself,  depart  ; 
The  distance  hinders  us. 
Hear'st  thou,  O  wanderer  worn  ? 
If  thou  my  speech  wilt  heed, 

Go  forth  from  ground  where  man's  foot  may  not  go, 
To  where  all  walk  alike. 
Then  speak  ;  till  then  abstain. 

(Edip.  [To  ANTIGONE.]  What  turn  should  counsel  take, 
my  child,  in  this  ?  17u 

Antig.  O  father,  we  to  citizens  should  give 
Their  due,  and  yield  and  hearken  as  is  meet. 
(Edip.  Come,  then,  and  touch  me. 
Antig.  f  Here  then  is  my  hand. 

[  She  leads  him  out  of  the  grove. 
(Edip.  So  then,  my  friends,  I  pray, 
Let  me  not  suffer  wrong, 
Trusting  thy  plighted  word, 

i  81  r 


OEDIPUS    AT    COLON  OS 

And  moving  from  my  place. 

Chor.  No  one  from  henceforth,  'gainst  thy  will,  old 

man, 
Shall  lead  thee  from  this  spot. 

[Pointing  to  a  rock  near  them. 

(Edip.  Still  farther  on  ?  18U 

Cbor.  Yet  onward  take  thy  course. 

(Edip.  What !  farther  still  ? 

Chor.  [To  ANTIGONE.]  Lead  him  on,  maiden,  farther, 
For  thou  discernest  clear. 

Antig,  Follow  then,  follow,  with  thy  sightless  limbs, 
My  father,  where  I  lead. 

Chor.  A  stranger  in  a  land  that  is  not  thine, 
Endure,  O  suffering  one, 
To  loathe  whate'er  our  state  doth  hateful  hold, 
To  reverence  what  it  loves. 

(Edip.  Lead  me  then  on,  my  child, 
Where,  on  due  reverence  resting, 
We  may  both  speak  and  hear  ; 
Nor  let  us  war  with  fate. 

Char.  Stop  here  ;  nor  farther  bend  thy  foot 
Beyond  this  platform  hewn  from  out  the  rock. 

(Edip.  Shall  it  be  thus  ? 

Chor.  Enough,  as  now  thou  hearesr. 

(Edip.  And  may  I  sit  ? 

Chor.  Just  leaning  sideways  here, 

On  the  rock's  edge  sit  low  and  bend  thy  knees. 

Antig.  This,  father,  be  my  task.     With  gentle  tread, 
Step  after  step  advance  ;  [CEoipus  groans. 

Thy  aged  frame  to  my  fond  hand  confide. 

(Edip.  Ah  me  !  my  weary  fate  ! 

Chor.  O  suffering  one,  since  now  thou  givest  way, 

Speak.     Who  of  mortals  art  thou  ? 
Who  art  thou  that  art  led  thus  miserable  ? 
Thy  country  we  would  learn. 

(Edip.  I  am  an  exile,  friends  ;  but  no  !  not  that • 

N 


CEDIPUS    AT    COLON  OS 

Char.  And  why,  old  man,  why  shrinkest  thou  from 
that? 

(Edlp.  No !  no  !  let  no  one  ask  me  who  I  am  :         *'° 
Search  not,  with  over-curious,  idle  quest. 

Chor.  What  means  all  this  ? 

(Edlp.  My  birth  was  terrible. 

Chor.  Yet  tell  it  out ! 

(Edlp.  [To  ANTIGONE.]  What  must  I  say,  my  child  ? 

Chor.  Tell  us,  O  stranger,  of  what  race  thou  com'st  f 

(Edlp.  Woe  !  woe !     What  sorrow  comes  on  me,  my 
child  ! 

Antig.  Tell  them,  for  thou  art  in  a  sore  strait  now. 

(Edlp.  Yea,  I  will  speak.     No  hiding-place  is  left. 

Chor.  Ye  linger  long  ;  make  haste  to  tell  thy  tale. 

(Edlp.  Know  ye  of  Laios'  son  ?  **> 

Chor.  Ah  woe  !  ah  woe  ! 

(Edlp.  The  race  of  the  Labdakidz  ? 

Chor.  O  Zeus  ! 

(Edlp.  The  wretched  CEdipus? 

Chor.  And  art  thou  he? 

(Edlp.  Yet  fear  thou  nothing,  whatsoe'er  I  say. 

Chor.  Alas!  alas! 

(Edlp.  O  miserable  me  ! 

Chor.  Woe!  woe! 

(Edlp.  My  daughter  !  what  befalls  us  now  ? 

Chor.  Depart  ye  from  our  land  ! 

(Edlp.  And  wilt  thou  thus  thy  promise  to  us  keep  ? 

Chor.  Vengeance  comes  not  from  Heaven  on  any  man, 
Avenging  wrongs  that  men  have  done  to  him  ;  m 

But  fraud  on  this  side  meeting  fraud  on  that, 
Repays  with  pain,  not  kindness.     Go,  I  say, 
From  this  spot  too  ;  forth  from  my  land  depart, 
Lest  on  my  city  some  fresh  ill  thou  bring. 

Antig.  O  strangers,  kind  and  pitiful  of  heart, 

Since  ye  could  not  endure 
To  hear  my  aged  father  speak  of  crimes 
83 


(EDIPUS    AT   COLONOS 

Done  most  unwillingly  ; 
Have  pity,  I  implore  you,  friends,  on  me, 
Who  for  my  lonely  father  supplicate — 
Yea,  supplicate,  with  eyes  not  blind  and  dark, 
Gazing  on  thine  eyes,  as  a  maiden  might, 

Who  common  kindred  claimed, 
That  at  your  hands  this  old  man,  woe-begone, 
May  find  the  pity  that  is  born  of  awe. 
On  you,  as  on  a  god,  we  rest  our  fate ; 
But  grant,  oh,  grant  me  this  unlooked-for  boon. 
By  all  that  is  most  dear,  I  supplicate,  "° 

Thy  child,  thy  wife,  thy  treasure,  or  thy  God  ; 
Search  where  thou  wilt,  thou  ne'er  wilt  find  a  man 
With  strength  to  'scape  when  God  shall  lead  him  on. 

Chor.  Know,  child  of  CEdipus,  we  pity  thee, 
And  him  too,  for  your  sad  calamity  ; 
But,  fearing  God,  we  may  not  dare  to  speak 
One  word  beyond  the  orders  thou  hast  heard. 

(EJip.  What  profit  is  there  then  of  noble  fame, 
Or  fair  report  all  idly  floating  on, 
If  men  can  speak  of  Athens,  most  devout, 
The  one  deliverer  of  the  stranger-guest, 
When  wronged  or  injured,  yea,  his  one  support  ? 
What  is  all  this  to  me,  whom  ye  did  raise 
From  where  I  stood,  and  then  drive  out  by  force, 
Fearing  my  name  alone  ?     It  cannot  be 
Ye  fear  my  presence  or  my  deeds  ;  for  they 
Were  rather  suffered  by  me  than  performed, 
If  I  must  tell  thee  what  befell  my  parents, 
On  whose  account  thou  dread'st  me.     This  I  know. 
And  yet  how  was  I  base  and  vile  of  heart  ?  *" 

For  I  did  but  requite  the  wrongs  I  suffered, 
So  that,  not  even  had  I  done  the  deed 
With  open  eyes,  should  I  be  guilty  found. 
But,  as  it  was,  I,  knowing  nothing,  went 
Just  where  I  went,  while  they  who  wronged  me  sought, 
84 


CEDIPUS   AT  COLONOS 

Well  knowing  it,  my  death.     And  therefore,  friends, 

i  pray  ye,  by  the  Gods,  as  ye  have  raised  me, 

So  now  deliver,  nor,  with  outward  show 

Honouring  the  Gods,  then  count  the  Gods  as  nought  ; 

But  think  that  they  behold  the  godly  soul, 

Beholding  too  the  godless  :  never  yet 

Was  refuge  found  for  impious  child  of  man.  *° 

And  therefore  shame  not  Athens,  blest  of  God, 

Lending  thy  hands  to  any  impious  deeds ; 

But,  as  thou  did'st  receive  me  as  a  suppliant, 

And  give  me  pledge  of  safety,  free  me  now ; 

Free  me  and  guard,  and  look  not  thou  with  scorn 

On  this  grey  head,  so  foul  to  look  upon. 

For  I  am  come,  as  sacred,  fearing  God, 

Bringing  this  people  profit.     And  your  lord, 

When  he  shall  come,  whom  ye  your  ruler  call, 

Then  thou  shalt  hear  and  know  the  whole.    Meanwhile, 

Be  not  thou  found  as  base  in  anything. 

Chor.  I  needs  must  feel  some  shrinking  as  I  hear, 
Old  man,  thy  reasonings,  for  with  no  slight  words 
Have  they  been  uttered.     'Tis  enough  for  me 
That  they  who  rule  us  search  the  matter  out. 

(Rdip.  And  where,  my  friends,  is  he  who  rules  this 
land? 

Chor.  He  keeps  his  father's  city.     But  the  scout 
Who  sent  me  here,  is  gone  to  summon  him. 

(Edip.  And  think  ye  he  will  any  pity  feel, 
Or  care  for  me,  the  blind  one,  and  will  come  ? 

Chor.  Right  sure  am  I,  when  once  he  hears  thy  name. 

(Edip.  And  who  is  he  that  will  report  it  to  him  ? 

Chor.  The  way  is  long  ;  but  market  news  is  wont 
To  wander  fast.     And  when  he  hears  the  news, 
Be  of  good  cheer,  he'll  come.     For  know,  old  man, 
Thy  name  has  come  to  all  men,  and  though  slow 
His  speed  at  first,  yet  hearing,  he  will  haste. 

(Edip.  And  may  he  come  with  blessing  to  his  country, 
85 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

And  to  me  also  !     Who  that  lives  is  found 
Unfriendly  to  himself? 

Antig.  [Starting.]  Zeus  !     What  is  this  ? 
My  father  !  whither  shall  I  turn  my  thoughts  ?  ro 

(Edip,  What  is't,  my  child,  Antigone  ? 

[ISMENE  is  seen  in  the  distance. 

Antig.  I  see 

Advancing  near  us,  mounted  on  a  colt 
Of  ^Etna's  breed,  a  woman's  form.     Her  head 
Is  shaded  by  a  broad  Thessalian  hat.1 
What  shall  I  say?  ...  And  can  it  be?  .  .  .   'Tis  not. — 
Does  my  mind  cheat  me  ?     Now  'tis  yes,  now  no, 
And  what  to  say,  O  wretched  me !  I  know  not. 
And  yet  it  is  none  else.     With  clear  bright  glance 
Advancing  she  salutes  me,  and  declares 
It  is  mine  own  Ismene,  no  one  else. 

(Edip.  What  say'st  thon,  daughter  ? 

Antig.  That  I  see  thy  child, 

My  sister ;  now  her  voice  will  bid  thee  know. 

[Enter  ISMENE,  followed  by  an  Attendant. 

Ismene.  O  dearest  one.     My  father  and  my  sister! 
Of  all  names  sweetest.     Hard  it  was  to  find, 
And  now  for  sorrow  it  is  hard  to  see. 

(Edip.  Art  thou  then  come? 

Ism.  Not  easy  was  the  way. 

(Edip.  Touch  me,  my  child. 

Ism.  I  touch  you  both  at  once. 

(Edip.  Hast  thou  appeared  ? 

Ism.  O  father,  sad,  most  sad ! 

(Edip.  O  child,  dear  child ! 

1  The  "colt  of  ^Etna's  breed  "  was  probably  one  of  the  mules  for 
which  Sicily  was  famous  and  which  were  commonly  used  by  women 
in  travelling.  The  Thessalian  hat,  like  the  Roman  petasus,  was  a 
low-crowned,  broad-brimmed  "wide-awake,"  worn  by  peasants 
and  travellers. 

M 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLON  OS 

Ism.  O  lives  of  two-fold  woe!     *"* 

(Edip.  Hers  and  mine,  mean'st  thou  ? 

Ism.  Yea,  and  mine  the  third  ! 

(Edip.  Why  com'st  thou,  child  ? 

Ism.  In  care  for  thee,  my  father ! 

(Edip.  Did'st  thou  then  yearn  .   .  .  ? 

Ism.  I  come  to  tell  my  tale, 

With  the  one  faithful  servant  that  I  had. 

(Edip.  Where  are  thy  brothers,  young  and  strong  to 
work  ? 

Ism.  E'en  as  they  are.     A  fearful  fate  is  theirs. 

(Edip.   Oh,  like  in  all  things,  both  in  nature's  bent, 
And  mode  of  life,  to  Egypt's  evil  ways, 
Where  men  indoors  sit  weaving  at  the  loom, 
And  wives  outdoors  must  earn  their  daily  bread. 
Of  you,  my  children,  those  who  ought  to  toil, 
Keep  house  at  home,  like  maidens  in  their  prime, 
And  ye,  in  their  stead,  wear  yourselves  to  death, 
For  me  and  for  my  sorrows.     She,  since  first 
Her  childhood's  nurture  ceased,  and  she  grew  strong, 
Still  wandering  with  me  sadly  evermore, 
Leads  the  old  man  through  many  a  wild  wood's  paths, 
Hungry  and  footsore,  threading  on  her  way. 
And  many  a  storm  and  many  a  scorching  sun 
Bravely  she  bears,  and  little  recks  of  home, 
So  that  her  father  find  his  daily  bread. 
And  thou,  my  child,  before  did'st  come  to  me 
All  oracles  to  tell  me  (those  Cadmeians 
Not  knowing  of  thy  errand)  which  were  given 
Touching  this  feeble  frame ;  and  thou  wast  still 
A  faithful  guardian,  when  from  out  the  land 
They  drove  me.     And  what  tidings  bring'st  thou  now, 
Ismene,  to  thy  father?     What  has  led 
Thy  steps  from  home  ?  for  that  thou  com'st  not  idly, 
Nor  without  cause  for  fear,  I  know  full  well. 

Ism.  The  sufferings  which  I  suffered,  O  my  father, 
87 


CEDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

Tracking  thy  life  where  them  may'st  chance  to  dwell, 

This  I  pass  over,  for  I  like  not  twice 

To  grieve  my  soul,  first  bearing  pain  itself, 

And  then  relating.     But  I  come  to  tell 

The  ills  that  now  thy  wretched  sons  befall : 

Till  now  they  were  content  to  leave  the  throne 

To  Creon,  nor  defile  their  country's  fame, 

Bearing  in  mind  the  ancient  taint  of  blood 

Which  cleaves  to  all  thy  miserable  house  : 

But  now,  an  evil  spirit  from  the  Gods, 

And  their  o\vn  mood  of  hate,  have  seized  on  them, 

Thrice  miserable,  to  grasp  at  sovereignty 

And  regal  sway.     And  he,  the  youngest  born, 

His  elder  brother  Polyneikes  robs 

Of  kingly  throne,  and  drives  him  from  the  land. 

And  he,  (for  so  reports  come  thick  and  fast,) 

An  exile  goes  to  Argos  in  the  dale, 

There  forms  new  ties,  and  gains  a  friendly  host 

Of  warriors  round  him,  as  if  Argos  meant, 

Or  to  bring  low  the  plain  of  Cadmos  old 

In  conquest,  or  exhalt  its  fame  to  heaven. 

These  are  no  words,  my  father,  no  vain  show, 

But  fearful  deeds.     And  I  as  yet  know  not 

What  way  the  pity  of  the  Gods  will  work. 

(Edip.  And  had'st  thou  any  hope  the  Gods  would  look 
On  me  with  pity,  and  deliverance  give  ? 

Ism.  To  me,  at  least,  these  oracles  give  hope. 

(Edip.  What  oracles?     And  what  has  been  revealed? 

Ism.  That  the  men  there  should  seek  to  bring  thee 

back, 
Or  dead  or  living,  if  they  wish  for  safety. 

(Edip.  And  who  from  such  as  I  could  safety  gain? 

Ism.  They  say  that  all  their  power  depends  on  thee. 

(Edip.  Am  I  a  hero  then,  as  good  as  dead  ? 

Ism.  The  Gods  did  vex  thee  once,  they  prosper  now. 

(Edip.  'Tis  vain  to  prosper  in  his  age  a  man 


CEDIPUS   AT    COLONOS 

In  youth  low  fallen. 

Ism.  Know  that  Creon  comes 

On  this  account,  ere  many  days  be  past. 

(Edip.  With  what  intent,  my  daughter  ?     Make  this 
clear. 

Ism.  That  they  may  place  thee  near  Cadmeian  ground, 
And  keep  thee,  but  the  borders  of  the  land 
Thou  must  not  enter. 

(Edip.  And  what  help  will  come 

From  this  my  presence  lying  at  their  door  ? 

Ism.  Thy  grave  dishonoured  brings  disgrace  on  them. 

(Edip.    This  one  might  know,  without  the  voice  of 
God. 

Ism.  On  this  account  they  wish  to  have  thee  near 
Their  country,  not  where  thou  may'st  roam  at  will. 

(Edip.  And  will  they  cover  me  with  Theban  dust? 

Ism.  Thy  father's  blood  makes  that  impossible. 

(Edip.  Then  never  shall  they  have  me  in  their  power  ! 

Ism.  Great  sorrow  to  the  Thebans  will  this  bring. 

(Edip.  What  chance  or  change  shall  bring  that  end  to 
pass? 

Ism.  Thy  wrath,  when  they  shall  gather   round  thy 
tomb. 

(Edip.  From  whom  heard'st  thou,  my  child,  the  things 
thou  tell'st  ? 

Ism.  From  men  who  went  to  seek  the  Delphic  shrine. 

(Edip.  Has  Phcebos  then  declared  these  things  of  us? 

Ism.  So  said  the  men  who  thence  returned  to  Thebes. 

(Edip.  Did  either  of  my  sons  hear  this  report  ? 

Ism.  Both  heard  alike,  and  knew  its  gist  right  well. 

(Edip.  And  did  those  vile  ones,  knowing  this,  prefer 
The  pride  of  power  to  all  their  love  for  me  ? 

Ism.  'Tis  pain  to  hear  such  words,  .  .  .  and  yet  I 
bear  them.  •" 

(Edip.  O  that  the  Gods  might  never  lull  to  rest 
The  destined  strife  between  them,  and  would  grant 
89 


CEDIPUS   AT    COLONOS 

To  me  the  end  of  all  the  deadly  war 
For  which  they  lift  the  spear  !     Then  neither  he 
Who  holds  the  sceptre  and  the  throne  should  stay, 
Nor  he  who  now  has  left  the  city's  gates 
Return  in  peace.     Lo  !  they  would  none  of  me, 
Their  father  that  begat  them,  helped  me  not, 
Thus  poor,  dishonoured,  exiled  ;  but  by  them 
I  was  sent  forth  an  outlawed  fugitive. 
But  thou  wilt  say,  it  may  be,  at  my  wish 
My  country  rightly  gave  this  boon  to  me. 
Not  so,  not  so,  for  on  that  self-same  day, 
When  yet  my  thoughts  were  hot,  and  all  my  wish, 
My  one  desire,  to  perish,  stoned  to  death, 
No  man  came  forward  then  to  help  that  wish  ; 
But  later,  when  the  sorrow  had  grown  slack, 
And  I  perceived  my  passion  had  outstripped 
My  former  faults  with  lavish  punishment, 
Then  did  our  state,  for  its  part,  drive  me  forth 
Full  late  to  exile.     And  my  sons  that  might 
Have  helped  their  father,  would  not  stir  to  act ; 
And  I,  for  lack  of  one  small  word,  went  roaming, 
A  beggar  and  a  fugitive.     And  these, 
Girls  as  they  are,  with  such  strength  as  they  have, 
Give  me  my  daily  food  ;  from  them  I  gain 
Rest  without  fear,  and  every  kindly  help. 
But  those  two  brothers  chose,  instead  of  me 
Their  father,  kingly  thrones  and  sceptred  sway, 
To  play  their  parts  as  sovereigns  in  the  land. 
But  never  shall  they  make  me  their  ally, 
Nor  from  their  rule  o'er  Thebes  shall  aught  of  good 
For  ever  come.     This  know  I,  hearing  both 
The  oracles  she  brings,  and  thinking  o'er 
Those  older  words  that  Phcebos  brought  on  me. 
Wherefore  to  seek  me  let  them  Creon  send, 
Or  any  man  whose  power  the  country  owns. 
For  if  ye  will  but  stand,  my  friends,  on  guard, 
90 


(EDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

With  these  thrice  awful,  dread  Protectresses,1 
Then  for  your  country's  welfare  ye  shall  gain 
A  great  Deliverer,  trouble  to  its  foes. 

Char.  Worthy  of  pity  art  thou,  CEdipus  ; 
Both  thou  and  these  thy  daughters.     But  as  thou 
Dost  of  this  land  proclaim  thyself  the  saviour, 
I  wish  to  give  thee  counsel  for  thy  good. 

(Edip.  Help  me,  true  friend,  as  willing  to  do  all. 

Chor.  Make  thine  atonement  to  these  Powers,  to  whom 
Thou  earnest  first,  profaning  this  their  soil. 

(Edip.  After  what  fashion  ?     Tell  me,  O  my  friends. 

Chor.  First,  offer  from  the  ever-flowing  stream 
Libations  sacred,  lifting  holy  hands.2 

(Edip.  And  when    I    take    this    pure    and    stainless 
stream  .  .  .  ? 

Chor.  Vases  there  are,  the  work  of  skilful  hands  ; 
Crown  thou  their  rims  and  handles  at  the  mouth. 

(Edip.  With  fresh  green  boughs,  or  locks  of  wool,  or 
how  ? 

Chor.  Around  them  twine  a  young  lamb's  snow-white 
locks. 

(Edip.  So  be  it.     And  what  then  remains  to  do  ? 

Chor.  Then  pour  libations  turning  to  the  East. 

(Edip.  And  shall  I  pour  with   these   same   urns  thou 
tell'stof? 

Chor.  Pour  three  libations,  all  at  once  the  last.  .  .  . 

(Edip.  With  what  shall  I  fill  this  ?    Instruct  me  here. 

Chor.  Water  and  honey.     Wine  thou  must  not  add. 

(Edip.  Why    this,  when   vine-leaves  shadow  all   the 
land? 

1  The  Protectresses  are,  of  course,  the  Eumenides.     The  great 
Deliverer  is  Apollo,  whose  favour  the  men  of  Colonos  will  gain  by 
sheltering  CEdipus. 

2  The  ritual  described  is  obviously  that  with  which  the  poet  had 
been  familiar  from  his  boyhood,  as  practised  in  the  sacred  grove  of 
his  deme.     The  vases  are  those  which  stood  there  for  the  use  of  all 
worshippers. 

91 


CEDIPUS   AT    COLONOS 

Chor.  Branches  thrice  nine  of  olive  then  place  here, 
On  either  hand  ;  then  offer  up  these  prayers. 

(Edip.  I  fain  would  hear  them.     Crown  of  all  are 
they. 

Chor.  Eumenides,  the  Gentle  Ones,  we  call  them, 
With  gentle  hearts  receive  and  save  your  suppliant ; 
Pray,  both  thyself,  and  some  one  in  thy  stead, 
In  low  voice  speaking,  not  in  lengthened  cry  ; 
Then,  turning  not,  withdraw.     If  thou  dost  this,         <9° 
I  will  stand  by  thee  boldly  ;  else  for  thee, 

0  stranger  friend,  I  should  be  full  of  fear. 

(Edip.   Hear  ye,  my  children,  what  these  townsmen 
say? 

Antig.  We  hear.    Do  thou  command  us  what  is  right. 

(Edip.  I  may  not  go.     Two  evils  press  on  me, 
My  failing  strength  and  loss  of  power  to  see  ; 
Let  one  of  you  go  on  and  do  these  things. 
For  one  soul  working  in  the  strength  of  love 
Is  mightier  than  ten  thousand  to  atone  ; 
But  what  ye  do,  do  quickly.     Only  this 

1  ask  you,  leave  me  not.     This  feeble  frame, 
Bereaved  of  you,  unguided  cannot  creep. 

Ism.  I  go  to  do  thy  bidding.     But  the  place 
Which  it  is  mine  to  seek,  I  fain  would  learn. 

Chor.  Beyond  this  grove,  O  maiden.     And  if  still 
Thou  lackest  aught,  our  townsman  here  shall  tell  thee. 

Ism.  I  would  go  forth  to  this.  Antigone, 
Guard  thou  our  father.  For  a  parent's  sake, 
Though  one  may  toil,  one  should  the  toil  forget.  [Exit. 

Ckor.  To  stir  the  buried  evil  of  the  past, 
I  know,  is  fearful  ;  yet  I  fain  would  ask 

(Edip.  Of  what? 

Chor.  Of  thy  great  sorrow,  pitiful, 

Grievous,  perplexing,  ever  by  thy  side. 

(Edip.  By  all  thy  ties  of  kindness,  gentle  friend, 
Bid  me  not  open  deeds  of  foulest  shame. 
92 


CEDIPUS   AT    COLONOS 

Chor.  The  widespread  rumour  growing  evermore, 
I  fain  would  hear,  my  friend,  the  truth  in  all. 

(Edip.  Woe  !  woe  ! 

Chor.  Be  patient,  I  beseech  thee. 

(Edip.  Woe,  woe  is  me  ! 

Chor.  Comply,  as  I  have  done  with  thy  desire  !         5ao 

*(Edip.  Full  evil  fortune  have  I  borne,  my  friends, 
*But  all  against  my  will  ;  for  these,  God  knows, 
Were  none  of  them  self-chosen. 

Chor.  How  was  this  ? 

(Edip.  In  shameful  wedlock  did  my  country  join  me 
Who  nothing  knew,  yea,  in  accursed  marriage. 

Chor.  And  did'st  thou,  as  I  hear,  thy  mother's  bed 
Take  as  thine  own,  in  shame  ineffable  ? 

(Edip.  Ah  me  !  'tis  death  to  me  to  hear  it  said, 
O  stranger  !  And  these  children — they  were  born  .  .  .  M0 

Chor.  What  sayest  thou  ? 

(Edip.  Two  sorrows  they  were  born.   .  .  . 

Chor.  O  Zeus ! 

(Edip.  From  the  same  womb  to  which  I   owed  my 
birth. 

Chor.  Are  they  thy  daughters  ? 

(Edip.  Yea,  their  father's  sisters. 

Chor.  Ah  woe  ! 

(Edip.  Ah  woe  !  ten  thousand  tangled  ills  .  .  . 

Chor.  Thou  suffer'dst  .  .  . 

(Edip.  Yes,  I  suffered  fearful  things. 

Chor.  And  thou  hast  done  .  .  . 

(Edip.  I  have  not  done. 

Chor.  What  then  ? 

(Edip.  I  did  but  take  as  gift  what  I,  poor  wretch,     5*° 
Had,  at  my  country's  hands,  not  merited. 

Chor.  Poor  sufferer,  what  but  that  ?     And  did'st  thou 
kill  .  .  .? 

(Edip.  What  say'st  thou  now  ?     What  wishest    thou 
to  learn  ? 

93 


CEDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

Cfar.  Thy  father  ? 

(Edip.  Ah,  thou  strikest  blow  on  blow. 

Char.  Did'st  slay  him  ? 

(Edip.  Yea,  I  slew  him ;  but  in  this  .  .  . 

Cbor.  What  sayeat  thou  ? 

(Edip.  I  have  some  plea  of  right. 

Chor.  How  so  ? 

(Edif.  I'll  tell  thee.    Not  with  knowledge  clear 

I  smote  and  slew  him ;  but  I  did  the  deed, 
By  law,  not  guilty,  ignorant  of  all. 

Chor.  Lo,  Theseus  comes !  great  ^Egeus'  son,  our  king, 
At  thy  request,  to  hear  thy  message  to  him.  "° 

Enter  THESEUS. 

Thes.  Hearing  from  many,  in  the  years  gone  by, 
(The  bloody  mischief  thou  did'st  do  thine  eyes,) 
I  know  thee,  son  of  Laios,  who  thou  art ; 
And  hearing,  as  I  came,  fresh  news,  discern 
Yet  more;  for  thee,  thy  weeds  and  suffering  face 
Declare  too  plainly  ;  and,  with  pitying  heart, 
I  wish  to  ask,  unhappy  GEdipus, 
Why  thou  sitt'st  here,  a  suppliant  to  my  state, 
And  to  me  also, — thou,  and  that  poor  girl 
Who  still  attends  thee  ?     Tell  me  ;  dread  indeed 
The  suffering  thou  should'st  tell,  for  me  to  hold          ** 
Myself  aloof  from  it.     Right  well  I  know 
That  I  myself  was  reared  away  from  home, 
As  thou  ;  and,  more  than  most  men,  struggled  through.1 
In  a  strange  land,  full  many  a  risk  of  life. 
So  from  no  stranger,  coming  as  thou  com'st, 
Would  I  draw  back,  or  fail  to  help  and  save  ; 
I  know  that  I  am  man,  and  I  can  count 
No  more  than  thou,  on  what  the  morrow  brings. 

*  Theseus,  the  Heracles  of  Attica,  had  been  brought  up,  according 
to  the  myth,  in  Troezen,  and  in  returning  to  Athens  across  the 
Isthmus,  had  encountered  many  robbers  and  monsters. 
94 


CEDIPUS   AT    COLONOS 

(Edip.  Theseus,  thy  noble  heart,  with  fewest  words, 
Permits  me  too  to  answer  thee  in  brief;  i:o 

For  who  I  am,  and  of  what  father  born, 
And  from  what  country  come, — thou  hast  said  all ; 
So  that  nought  else  remains  but  just  to  say 
The  things  I  wish  for,  and  my  tale  is  told. 

Thes.  Tell  me  then  straightway,  that  I  too  may  know. 

(Edip.  I  come  to  give  thee  this  poor  feeble  frame, 
A  sorry  gift,  uncomely  to  the  sight. 
But  gain  will  come  of  it,  that  far  outweighs 
All  outward  beauty. 

Thes.  And  what  gain  is  this 

Thou  boastest  that  thou  bring'st? 

(Edip.  In  course  of  time 

Thou  shalt  know  all,  but  not  this  present  hour.  ^ 

Thes.  And  when  shall  this,  the  gain  thou  bring'st,  be 
clear? 

(Edip.  When  I  shall  die,  and  thou  shalt  bury  me. 

Thes.  Thou  asketh  life's  last  care  ;  what  comes  between 
Thou  dost  forget,  or  make  of  no  account. 

(Edip.  For  me  this  goeth  hand  in  hand  with  that. 

Thes.  'Tis  a  small  thing  thou  ask'st,  this  boon  of  thine. 

(Edip.  Look  to  it  well.     Not  small  the  conflict  here. 

Thes.  Mean'st  thou  a  conflict  of  thy  townsmen  with 
me? 

(Edip.   Fain  would  they  force  me  thither  to  return. 

Thes.  Against  their  will,  it  is  not  good  to  flee. 

(Edip.  Nay,  but  they  never  gave  me  what  I  wished. 

Thes.  O  fool,  in  troubles  passion  profits  not. 

(Edip.  Hear  first,  then  counsel.    Till  then,  let  me  be. 

Thes.  Instruct  me ;  unadvised  I  would  not  speak. 

(Edip.  O  Theseus,  I  have  suffered  ills  on  ills. 

Thes.  Speak'st  thou  of  that  old  sorrow  of  thy  house? 

(Edip.  Not  so.     That  sorrow  all  th'  Hellenes  know. 

Thes.  What  more  than  human  woe  weighs  sore  on 
thee  ? 

95 


CEDIPUS   AT    COLONOS 

(Edip.  Thus  is  it  with  me.     I  was  driven  away 
By  mine  own  sons ;  and  never  may  I  tread  fl°° 

My  country's  soil,  my  father's  murderer. 

TAes.  Why  should  they  fetch  thee   then,  apart    to 
dwell  ? 

(Edip.  It  is  the  voice  of  God  constrains  them  to  it. 

Thes.  What  evil  do  the  oracles  forebode  ? 

(Edip.  That  they  are  doomed  in  this  thy  land  to  fall. 

Thes.  And  how  should  strife  spring  up  'twixt  them 
and  me  ? 

(Edip.  O  son  of  ^Egeus,  unto  Gods  alone 
Nor  age  can  come,  nor  destined  hour  of  death. 
All  else  the  almighty  Ruler,  Time,  sweeps  on. 
Earth's  strength  shall  wither,  wither  strength  of  limb,  81° 
And  trust  decays,  and  mistrust  grows  apace ; 
And  the  same  spirit  lasts  not  among  them 
That  once  were  friends,  nor  joineth  state  with  state. 
To  these  at  once,  to  those  in  after  years, 
Sweet  things  grow  bitter,  then  turn  sweet  again. 
And  what  if  now  at  Thebes  all  things  run  smooth 
And  well  towards  thee,  Time,  in  myriad  change, 
A  myriad  nights  and  days  brings  forth ;  and  thus 
In  these,  for  some  slight  cause,  they  yet  may  spurn 
In  battle,  all  their  pledge  of  faithfulness.1  *" 

And  there  this  body,  sleeping  in  the  grave, 
All  cold  and  stiff,  shall  drink  warm  blood  of  men, 
If  Zeus  be  Zeus,  and  His  son,  Phcebos,  true. 
But,  since  it  is  ill  done  to  speak  of  things 
Best  left  unstirred,  leave  me  where  I  began, 
Thine  own  pledge  keeping  faithfully,  and  ne'er 
Shalt  thou  have  cause  to  say  thou  took'st  me  in, 
Me,  CEdipus,  a  guest  unprofitable 
To  this  thy  land,  unless  the  Gods  deceive  me. 

Cher.  Such  words,  my  king,  and  others  like  to  them, 

1  A  possible  reference  to  the  political  relations  between  Athens 
and  Thebes  at  the  commencement  of  the  Peloponnesian  war. 
96 


CEDIPUS    AT   COLONOS 

Long  since,  this  man  has  promised  to  perform. 

Thes.  Who  then  were  bold  enough  to  cast  aside 
His  kindly  feeling  for  a  man  like  this, 
Who  may  claim,  first,  the  ancient  mutual  ties, 
The  open  hearth  of  men  allied  in  arms  ; l 
And  next,  has  come  a  suppliant  of  the  Gods, 
And  to  my  land  and  me  full  tribute  pays  ? 
These  claims  I  reverence,  and  will  not  disown 
My  friendship  for  him  ;  but  will  welcome  him 
In  this  our  land.     And  if  it  please  our  guest 
Here  to  remain,  I  charge  thee  o'er  him  watch ; 
But  if  to  go  with  me  shall  please  thee,  CEdipus,  ^ 

I  leave  it  thy  choice  to  go  or  stay, 
As  thou  think'st  best,  myself  content  with  that. 

(Edip.  O  Zeus !  give  blessings  to  such  men  as  this  ! 

Thes.  What  then  desirest  thou?     To  go  with  me? 

(Edip.  If  it   were   lawful ;   .    .   .   But   the  .place   is 
here.  .  .  . 

This.  For  what  design  ?     Speak  !     I  will  not  oppose 
thee. 

(Edip,  Where   I  shall    conquer    those  who    cast  me 
forth. 

Tkes.  That  were  great  boon   for  this  thy  stay  with 
us. 

(Edip.  If  what  thou  say'st  abides  with  thee  in  act. 

Tkes.  Fear  not  as  touching  me  ;  I  ne'er  will  fail  thee. 

(Edip.  I  bind  thee  not,  like  baser  men,  by  oaths.     65° 

Thes.  No  more  by  that  thou'dst  gain   than  from  my 
word. 

(Edip.  How  wilt  thou  act  then  ? 

Thes.  What  alarms  thee  most  ? 

(Edip.   Men  will  come  here  .  .  . 

Thes.  Let  these  take  charge  of  them. 

1  Theseus  acknowledges  an  old  alliance  between  his  own  ancestors 
and  the  house  of  Labdacos,  of  which  CEdipus,  who  had  grown  up 
at  Corinth,  naturally  knows  nothing. 

i  97  G 


OEDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

(Edip.  Beware,  in  leaving  me  ... 

Tkes,  Nay,  tell  me  not 

What  to  beware. 

(Edip.  And  yet  I  needs  must,  fearing  .  .  . 

Tkes.  Fear  my  heart  knows  not. 

(Edip.  Thou  know'st  not  their  threats. 

Thes.  But  this  I  know,  that  no  man  of  them  all 
Shall  drag  thee  off  from  hence  against  my  will. 
Full  many  men  have  uttered  many  a  threat 
In  random  wrath,  but  when  their  mind  is  calm, 
The  threatenings  vanish  and  are  seen  no  more. 
If  they,  perchance,  waxed  fierce,  and  spake  big  words 
About  thy  going  back,  yet  I  know  well 
They'll  find  the  sea  full  wide  and  rough  for  them. 
I  bid  thee,  then,  apart  from  my  resolve, 
Take  heart,  if  it  was  Phcebos  sent  thee  here  : 
And,  even  in  my  absence  this  I  know, 
My  very  name  will  guard  thee  from  all  harm.        [Exit. 

STROPHE  I 

Ckor.  Of  all  the  land  far  famed  for  goodly  steeds, 
Thou  com'st,  O  stranger,  to  the  noblest  spot, 

Colonos,  glistening  bright, 
Where  evermore,  in  thickets  freshly  green, 

The  clear-voiced  nightingale 

Still  haunts,  and  pours  her  song, 

By  purpling  ivy  hid, 
And  the  thick  leafage  sacred  to  the  God,1 

With  all  its  myriad  fruits, 

By  mortal's  foot  untouched, 

By  sun's  hot  ray  unscathed, 


1  The  God  to  whom  the  ivy  was  sacred  is  first  indicated  by  this 
attribute,  then  named  as  Dionysos.  The  Nymphs  are  those  of  Nysa, 
who  first  nursed  him  in  his  childhood,  and  then  accompanied  him 
in  his  wanderings. 

98 


CEDIPUS   AT    COLONOS 

Sheltered  from  every  blast ; 
There  wanders  Dionysos  evermore, 

In  full,  wild  revelry, 
And  waits  upon  the  Nymphs  who  nursed  his  youth.    88° 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

And  there,  beneath  the  gentle  dews  of  heaven, 
The  fair  narcissus  with  its  clustered  bells 

Blooms  ever,  day  by  day, 
Of  old  the  wreath  of  mightiest  Goddesses  ; l 
And  crocus  golden- eyed  ; 
And  still  unslumbering  flow 
Kephisos'  wandering  streams  ;2 
They  fail  not  from  their  spring,  but  evermore, 
Swift-rushing  into  birth, 
Over  the  plain  they  sweep, 
The  land  of  broad,  full  breast, 
With  clear  and  stainless  wave  :  *• 

Nor  do  the  Muses  in  their  minstrel  choirs, 

Hold  it  in  slight  esteem, 
Nor  Aphrodite  with  her  golden  reins.8 

1  The  poet,  himself  initiated  in  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis,  between 
which  and  the  worship  of  Dionysos  there  was  a  close  connexion, 
naturally  sings  of  them.     The  "  great  Goddesses  "  are  Demeter  and 
Persephone.     The  narcissus  and  the  crocus  growing  on  the  rocks 
were  connected  with  the  story   of  the  capture  of  Persephone  by 
Aidoneus  (Pluto),  who  was  said  to  have  seized  her  as  she  \v  as  gather- 
ing these  flowers,  and  therefore  she  and  Demeter  wore  garlands  of 
the  ears  of  corn  instead  of  wreaths  of  their  blossoms. 

2  The  streams  of  the  Kephisos  are  still  carried  through  many 
small  channels,  watering  the  fields  and  gardens  of  the  peasants. 
And  the  local  name  (N<vxat)  is  all  but  identical  with  that  by  which 
Sophocles  describes  them. 

3  Here,  also,  there  is  a  reference  to  local  sanctuaries.     In  the 
Academeia  there  was  an  altar  to  the  Muses  ;  near  its  entrance  one 
to  Eros.    It  is  permissible  to  trace  something  of   a  poet's  serene 
complacency  in  the  words  which  speak  of  the  Muses  as  not  slighting 
his  own  birthplace.    The  epithet  "golden-reined"  refers  probably 
to  some  sculpture  representing  Aphrodite  drawn  by  doves. 

99 


(EDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

STROPHE  II 
And  in  it  grows  a  marvel  such  as  ne'er 

On  Asia's  soil  I  heard, 
Nor  the  great  Dorian  isle  from  Pelops  named,1 

A  plant  self-sown,  that  knows 

No  touch  of  withering  age, 

Terror  of  hostile  swords, 

Which  here  on  this  our  ground 

Its  high  perfection  gains, 
The  grey-green  foliage  of  the  olive-tree,1 

Rearing  a  goodly  race  : 

And  never  more  shall  man, 

Or  young,  or  bowed  with  years, 

Give  forth  the  fierce  command, 

And  lay  it  low  in  dust.3 

For  lo !  the  eye  of  Zeus, 

Zeus  of  our  olive  groves, 

That  sees  eternally, 

Casteth  its  glance  thereon, 
And  she,  Athena,  with  the  clear,  grey  eyes. 

ANTISTROPHK  II 
And  yet  another  praise  is  mine  to  sing, 

Gift  of  the  mighty  God 
To  this  our  city,  mother  of  us  all, 

Her  greatest,  noblest  boast, 

1  The  anachronism  which  makes  CEdipus  anticipate  the  Dorian 
migration  may  be  pardoned  by  those  who  remember  that  Shake- 
speare puts  a  quotation  from  Aristotle  into  the  mouth  of  Hector. 

2  The  first  olive-tree  had  sprung  up,  according  to  Attic  legends, 
in  the  Acropolis  at  the  bidding  of  Athena.    From  it  came  that  which 
was  planted  in   the  Academeia,  and   from   that  the  holy  olives 
(jiopuu)  which  formed  its  groves,  and  were  placed  under  the  special 
guardianship  of  the  Areopagos. 

*  Among  the  legends  of  the  Persian  invasion,  one  was,  that  th« 
olive  in  the  Acropolis,  the  day  after  it  had  been  burnt  in  the  capture 
of  the  city,  sent  out  a  new  and  sturdy  shoot.     The  "  >oung  '  in- 
vader is  probably  Xerxes,  the  "  old  "  Archidamos  or  Mardonios. 
100 


CEDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

Famed  for  her  goodly  steeds, 
Famed  for  her  bounding  colts, 
Famed  for  her  sparkling  sea. 
Poseidon,  son  of  Kronos,  Lord  and  King,1 
To  Thee  this  boast  we  owe, 
For  first  in  these  our  streets 
Thou  to  the  untamed  horse 
Did'st  use  the  conquering  bit: 
And  here  the  well-shaped  oar, 
By  skilled  hands  deftly  plied, 
Still  leapeth  through  the  sea, 
Following  in  wondrous  guise, 
The  fair  Nereids  with  their  hundred  feet. 
Antig.  O  land,  thus  blest  with  praises  that  excel,     m 
'Tis  now  thy  task  to  prove  these  glories  true. 

[CKEON  is  seen  approaching 
(Edip,  What  new  thing  happens,  child  ? 
Antig.  Creon  comes 

And  comes,  my  father,  not  without  an  escort. 

GLdip.  Now,  dear  and  honoured  friends,  of  reverend 

age, 
In  you  is  my  one  goal  of  safety  found. 

Chor.     Take  heart  !    Thou  'It  find  it  ;  old  although 

I  be, 
Our  country's  strength  has  not  yet  waxen  old. 

Enter  CREON,  attended  by  guards. 

Creon.  Ye  worthy  dwellers  of  this  land,  I  see, 
Your  faces  showing  it,  ye  feel  some  fear 
At  this  my  sudden  entry.     Yet,  I  pray  you,  no 

Shrink  ye  not  from  me,  speak  no  evil  words, 
For  I  am  come  with  no  design  to  act, 
Seeing  I  too  am  old,  and  know  that  I 

1  As  in  the  Acropolis,  Athena  was  represented  as  giving  the  olive, 
and  Poseidon  the  sea  to  the  city,  so  here  the  patriot  poet  brings  the 
two  together  as  the  joint  benefactors  of  his  country. 
101 


CEDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

Come  to  a  city,  great  and  powerful, 
As  any  is  in  Hellas.     I  was  sent, 
Old  as  I  am,  this  old  man  to  persuade 
To  follow  me  to  yon  Cadmeian  plain, 
Not  one  man's  envoy,  but  by  all  sent  forth, 
Because  by  kinship  it  is  mine  to  mourn, 
More  than  all  others,  this  man's  sufferings. 
And  thou,  O  woe-worn  CEdipus,  list  to  me, 
And  homeward  turn.     The  whole  Cadmeian  race 
Invites  thee  heartily,  I,  most  of  all, 
Since  most,  unless  I  were  of  all  men  basest, 
I  mourn,  old  man,  for  all  thy  many  woes, 
Beholding  thee  in  all  thy  misery, 
A  stranger,  and  a  wanderer  evermore, 
And  wanting  still  the  very  means  of  life. 
With  one  attendant,  who,  I  never  thought, 
Would  come  to  such  a  depth  of  ignominy, 
As  she,  poor  girl,  has  fallen  to,  who  still, 
Caring  for  thee,  and  that  poor  face  of  thine, 
In  beggar's  guise  lives  on, — at  her  age  too, 
Unsought  in  marriage,  to  the  lust  exposed 
Of  any  passing  stranger.     Woe  is  me  ! 
Is  it  not  foul  reproach  of  which  I  spake, 
Reproaching  thee,  and  me,  and  all  thy  race  ? 
Yet,  since  'tis  vain  to  hide  what  all  men  see, 
Do  thou,  by  all  my  country's  Gods,  give  ear, 
And  list  to  me,  O  CEdipus,  and  hide  them, 
As  thou  can'st  do,  if  willing  to  return 
To  thine  own  city,  and  thy  father's  house, 
To  this  state  here  a  kindly  farewell  giving, 
For  it  is  worthy.     But  thine  own  that  nursed 
Thee  long  ago  may  claim  yet  more  regard. 

(Etiip.  O  shameless  one,  all  daring!  weaving  still 
Some  crafty  scheme  from  every  righteous  word, 
Why  triest  thou  again,  and  fain  would'st  take 
Me  prisoner,  where  I  most  should  grieve  to  be  ? 


OEDIPUS    AT   COLONOS 

For  long  ago,  when  I  was  mad  with  woe, 
And  I  had  joyed  to  leave  the  land  for  aye, 
Thou  would'st  not  grant  this  boon  to  me  who  asked  ; 
But  when  my  wrath  was  sated,  saner  grown, 
And  it  was  pleasant  to  abide  at  home, 
Then  did'st  thou  thrust  me,  drive  me  out  by  force, 
And  kinship  then  had  little  weight  with  thee. 
And  now  again,  when  thou  dost  see  this  state 
Is  friendly  to  me,  it,  and  all  its  race, 
Thou  fain  would'st  drag  me  off,  with  glozing  words 
Hard  purpose  masking.     But  what  profits  it 
To  show  thy  love  to  men  against  their  will  f 
Just  as  if  one,  when  thou  did'st  seek  and  beg, 
Should  give  thee  nought,  nor  even  wish  to  help, 
And  when  thy  soul  was  filled  with  all  thy  wish, 
Should  give,  when  favour  little  favour  wins. 
Would'st  thou  not  find  this  boon  an  empty  show  ?        ™ 
Yet  such  the  thing  that  thou  dost  offer  me, 
Goodly  in  show,  yet  mischievous  in  act. 
These  too  I'll  tell,  that  I  may  show  thee  base  ; 
Thou  com'st  to  take  me,  not  to  take  me  home, 
But  on  the  borders  of  thy  land  to  place  me, 
That  so  thy  state  from  troubles  may  be  freed, 
Untouched  by  any  evil  from  this  land. 
That  shall  not  be ;  but  this  shall  be  thy  lot, 
My  stern  Avenger  dwelling  with  thee  still  ; 
And  those  my  sons  shall  gain  of  that  my  land 
Enough  to  die  in,  that  and  nothing  more. 
Do  not  I  wiser  prove  for  Thebes  than  thou  ? 
Yea,  far,  as  I  more  clearly  hear  the  voice 
Of  Phcebos,  and  of  Zeus  who  calls  Him  son  ? 
But  here  thy  mouth  has  come  with  feigned  lips, 
Speaking  thy  pointed  words.     Yet  thou  may'st  reap 
In  this  thy  speech  more  evil  far  than  good. 
But  since  I  know  I  move  thee  not,  depart, 
And  leave  us  here  in  peace,  for  we  should  fare, 
103 


CEDIPUS    AT    COLONOS 

E'en  as  we  are,  not  badly,  being  content. 

Creon.  Think'st  thou  I  prosper  less  in  what  concerns 

thee, 
Than  thou  in  what  concerns  thyself,  in  this  ? 

CEdip.  I  am  content,  if  thou  dost  not  prevail, 
Persuading  me,  or  these  my  neighbours  here. 

Creon.  O  man  ill-starred  !  shall  time  not  make  thec 

wise  ? 
Wilt  thou  still  bring  to  age  such  foul  disgrace  ? 

CEdip.  Thy  gift  of  speech  is  wondrous  ;  but  I  know 
None  pleading  well  all  causes,  and  yet  just. 

Creon.  Much  speech  is  one  thing,  well-timed  speech 

another. 
(Edip.  Thy  speech,  of  course,  is  brief  and  well-timed 

too. 

Creon.  Not  so,  to  one  whose  wisdom  is  as  thine.        *10 
CEdip.  Go  thou  thy  way,  for  in  the  name  of  these 
I  say  it,  watch  me  not  with  ill  intent, 
To  plan  attack  where  I  should  dwell  in  peace. 

Creon.  Not  thee,  but  these  I  take  as  witnesses 
What  words  thou    giv'st   thy   friends ;    should   I  seize 

thee.  .  .  . 

CEdip.  And  who  will  seize  me,  spite  of  these  allies  ? 
Creon.  Yet,  without  this,  there's  grief  in  store  for  thee. 
CEdip.  What  act  do  these  thy  threatening  words  por- 
tend ? 

Creon.  Of  thy  two  daughters  one  but  now  I  seized, 
And  sent  her  off ;  the  other  follows  soon. 

CEdip.  Ah  me  !  [8»° 

Creon.        Full  soon  thou  wilt  have  more  to  groan  for. 
CEdip.   Hast  thou  my  child  ? 

Crecn.  And  this  one  too  ere  long. 

[Guards  seize  ANTIGONE. 

CEdip.  Ho !    friends,    what    do    ye  ?     Will   ye  thus 

betray  me, 

Nor  drive  this  godless  monster  from  your  land  ? 
104 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

Chor.  Depart,  O  stranger,  quickly  !     Wrong  the  deed 
Thou  doest  now  ;  wrong  what  thou  did'st  before. 

Creon.  [To  his  guards.}  Now  is  your  time,  against  her 

will  to  seize  her, 
If  with  her  own  free  will  she  goeth  not. 

Antig.  Ah,  wretched  me  !     And  whither  shall  I  fly  ? 
What  help  from  Gods  or  mortals  shall  I  find  ? 

Chor.  What  means  this,  stranger  ? 

Creon.  Him  I  will  not  touch 

But  this  girl's  mine. 

(Edlp.  O  rulers  of  the  land  ! 

Chor.  Not  just,  O  stranger,  are  the  deeds  thou  doest. 

Creon.  Nay,  just  are  they. 

Ckor.  How  can'st  thou  call  them  just  ? 

Creon.  I  carry  off  mine  own. 

(Edip.  Ho  !  city  !  to  the  rescue  ! 

Chor.  What  means  this,  stranger  ?  Wilt  not  let  her  go  f 
Soon  thou  wilt  force  me  to  the  test  of  strength. 

[The  Chortu  try  to  rescue  ANTIGONE. 

Creon.  Keep  off,  I  tell  thee. 

Chor.  Not  while  thou  attemp'st 

Such  things  as  these. 

Creon.  If  thou  dost  injure  me, 

Thou  with  my  state  wilt  have  to  wage  thy  war. 

(Edip.  Did  not  I  tell  thee  this  ? 

Chor.  Let  go  thy  hand 

From  off  this  maid  ! 

Crtbn.  Command  not  where  thou'rt  weak. 

Chor.  [To  one  of  CREON'S  troops.}  I  bid   thee  set   her 
free.  ™ 

Creoa.  [To  the  same.}  I  bid  thee  go  ! 

Chor.  Come,  neighbours,  come  !   Come  hither  to  our 

help  : 

Our  state  is  injured,  yes,  our  state.     With  might 
Come  hither,  help  ! 

105 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

Ant'tg.  Ah,    friends !    ah,    friends  !    they    drag  me, 
wretched  one ! 

CEdip.  Where  art  thou,  child  ? 

Antig.  Against  my  will  I  go. 

(Edip.  Stretch  forth  thine  hands,  my  child. 

Antig.  No  power  have  I. 

Creon.  [To  the  guards.']  Will  ye  not  lead  her  ? 

QLdip.  Woe  is  me  !  all  woe  ! 

[Guards  carry  o^~  ANTIGONE. 

Creon.  No  longer,  then,  on  these  props  leaning,  thou 
Shalt  travel  onward.     But  since  thou  wilt  thwart 
Thy  country  and  thy  friends,  at  whose  behest 
I  do  these  deeds,  although  myself  a  king, 
Thwart  us,  if  so  it  please  thee.     For,  in  time, 
I  know  right  well,  thou'lt  learn  to  see  thyself 
As  neither  now  consulting  thine  own  good, 
Nor  in  the  time  that's  past,  when  thou  did'st  act 
Against  the  counsel  of  thy  friends,  and  yield 
To  that  fierce  wrath  that  plagues  thee  ceaselessly. 

[Moves  as  if  about  to  depart. 

Chor.  Hold  there,  my  friend  ! 

[Advances  towards  CREON. 

Creon.  I  tell  thee,  touch  me  not. 

Chor.  Though  robbed  of  these,  I  will  not  let  thee  go. 

Creon.  Thou'lt  make  thy  state  a  larger  ransom  pay, 
For  not  on  these  alone  I  lay  my  hand. 

Chor.  What  mean'st  thou  then  ? 

Creon.  Him  also  will  I  take  !  "*> 

Chor.  Thy  words  are  big. 

Creon.  Yet  it  shall  soon  be  done, 

Unless  the  ruler  of  this  land  forbid  me. 

CEdip.  O  shameful  threat !     Shalt  thou  lay  hands  on 
me  ? 

Creon.  Silence,  I  charge  thee  ! 

(Edip.  May  these  Goddess-Powers 

Not  smite  me  speechless  till  I  speak  my  curse 
106 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

On  thee,  thou  vile  one,  robbing  me  by  force 
Of  that  last  light,  when  other  lights  were  quenched. 
For  this  may  yon  bright  Son-god,  scanning  all, 
Grant  thee  thyself,  and  all  thy  race  with  thee, 
To  wear  thy  life  in  dreary  age  like  mine. 

Creon.  See  ye  these  things,  ye  dwellers  in  this  land  ? 

(Edip.  They  see  both  me  and  thee,  and  judge  that  I, 
Wronged  by  thy  deeds,  by  words  defend  myself. 

Creon.  I'll  check  my  wrath  no  more.  Although  alone, 
And  worn  with  age,  I'll  lead  him  hence  by  force. 

(Edip.  Ah,  wretched  me  ! 

Chor.  Thy  pride  is  great,  my  friend, 

If  that  thou  thinkest  thus  to  work  thy  will. 

Creon.  And  yet  I  think  it. 

Chor.  Then  our  country's  lost. 

Creon.  In  a  just   cause    the    weak    o'erpowers   the 
strong. 

(Edip.  Hear  ye  what  things  he  utters  ? 

Chor.  Things  which  he 

Shall  ne'er  accomplish  ! 

Creon.  Zeus  knows  that,  not  thou  ! 

Chor.  And  is  not  this  an  outrage  ? 

Creon.  Outrage  !  aye  ; 

Still  thou  must  bear  it ! 

Chor.  Ho!  ye  people,  come  ! 

Ye  rulers  of  this  land  come  quickly — haste  ! 
These  men  are  getting  far  upon  their  way. 

Enter  THESEUS,  followed  by  Athenians. 

Thes.  What  means  this  cry  ?     What  do  ye  ?    What  ill 

fearing 

Have  ye  thus  stopped  me  in  the  act  of  slaughter, 
Even  at  the  altar,  to  the  God  of  Ocean, 
Guardian  of  this  Colonos  ?     Tell  your  tale  out, 
That  I  may  know  why  I  have  rushed  in  haste  thus, 
With  greater  speed  than  one  would  walk  for  pleasure.  88° 
107 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

(Edlp.  O  dearest  friend  ! — for  well  I  know  thy  voice — 
At  this  man's  hands  I  suffer  fearful  wrongs. 

This.  What  are  they  ?    Who  has  injured  thee  ?    Speak 
on  ! 

GLdip.  This  Creon,  whom  thou  seest,  has  torn  frorc 

me 
The  only  pair  that  I  as  children  claim. 

Thes.  How  say'st  thou  ? 

QLdip.  What  I  suffer  thou  hast  heard. 

Thes.  Let  some  one,  then,  to  yonder  altars  go 
With  utmost  speed  to  summon  all  the  people, 
Both  horse  and  foot,  to  hasten,  tarrying  not 
For  sacrifice,  with  loosened  rein,  and  meet 
Where  the  two  paths  of  travellers  converge,1  *°* 

Lest  those  two  maidens  slip  from  out  our  hands, 
And  I,  outdone,  become  a  laughing-stock 
To  him,  this  stranger.     Go,  I  bid  you,  quickly. 
And  as  for  him,  if  I  were  wroth  with  him, 
E'en  as  he  merits,  he  should  not  depart 
Unhurt  from  me  ;  but  with  the  self-same  laws 
With  which  he  came  shall  he  be  recompensed, 
Those  and  no  others.     [To  CREON.]  Never  shah   thou 

stir 

From  out  this  land  until  before  mine  eyes  wo 

Thou  place  those  maidens.     Thou  dost  grievous  wrong 
To  thine  own  self,  thy  fathers,  and  thy  country, 
Who,  coming  to  a  state  that  loves  the  right, 
And  without  law  does  nothing,  sett'st  at  nought 
The  things  it  most  reveres,  and  rushing  in, 
Tak'st  what  thou  wilt,  with  deeds  of  violence. 
Thou  must  have  deemed  my  city  void  of  men, 
Slave-like,  submissive,  and  myself  as  nought. 
And  yet  it  was  not  Thebes  that  made  thee  base  : 
'Tis  not  her  wont  to  rear  unrighteous  men  ; 
Nor  would'st  thou  win  her  praise,  if  she  should  hear 

l  The  two  roads,  one  leading  to  E'.eusis,  the  other  the  Pythian. 
loS 


OEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Thou  tramplest  on  my  rights,  defiest  Gods, 

And  rudely  seizest  these  poor  suppliants. 

I  truly,  had  I  entered  on  thy  land, 

Although  my  cause  were  justest  of  the  just, 

Would  not,  without  the  ruler  of  the  land, 

Be  he  who  may,  have  seized  or  led  away  ; 

But  should  have  known  what  way  I  ought  to  live, 

A  stranger  sojourning  with  citizens. 

But  thou  dost  shame  a  city  which  deserves 

A  better  fate, — thine  own  ;  and  time's  full  course,        93n 

Making  thee  old,  has  robbed  thee  of  thy  mind. 

I  told  thee  this  before,  and  tell  thee  now, 

To  bring  the  girls  as  quickly  as  thou  can'st, 

Unless  thou  fain  would'st  live  an  alien  here, 

By  force,  against  thy  will.     And  this  I  say, 

With  all  my  soul,  as  well  as  with  my  tongue. 

Cher.  See'st   thou,  O   stranger,  how  the    case   doth 

stand  ? 
Just  by  thy  birth  and  fame,  thy  deeds  are  wrong. 

Creon.  Not  that  I  count  this  city  void  of  men, 
(I  use  thy  words,  O  son  of  ^Egeus  old,) 
Nor  void  of  counsel,  have  I  done  this  deed, 
Well  knowing  that  no  zeal  for  those  my  kindred 
Would  ever  lead  it  to  receive  them  here 
In  spite  of  my  commands.     I  also  knew 
Ye  ne'er  would  shield  a  parricide  impure, 
Nor  one  whose  marriage  was  an  incest  foul ; 
I  knew  that  in  this  land  a  Council  met 
Upon  the  hill  of  Ares,  wise  and  good, 
Which  suffers  not  such  wanderers  to  dwell 
Within  their  city.     Trusting  this  report, 
I  ventured  on  this  seizure.     Yet  e'en  thus  ** 

I  had  not  done  it,  but  he  heaped  his  curse 
On  me  and  on  my  house,  and,  suffering  thus, 
I  claimed  the  right  of  rendering  ill  for  ill, 
[For  headstrong  wrath  knows  no  old  age  but  death ; 
109 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

The  dead  are  callous  to  the  touch  of  pain.] 
Wherefore  do  what  thou  wilt,  for  though  I  speak 
With  justice  on  my  side,  yet  being  alone, 
But  little  power  is  left  me.     Yet  thy  deeds 
Old  as  I  am  I'll  strive  to  render  back. 

GLdip.  O  shameless  soul !  on  which,  think'st  thou,  thy 
scorn  M0 

Will  fall  most  heavily,  my  age  or  thine  ? 
Who  with  thy  lips  dost  tell  the  goodly  tale, 
Of  murders,  incests,  sad  calamities, 
Which  I,  poor  wretch,  against  my  will  endured  ; 
For  thus  it  pleased  the  Gods,  incensed,  perhaps, 
Against  my  father's  house  for  guilt  of  old. 
For,  as  regards  my  life,  thou  could'st  not  find 
One  spot  of  guilt,  in  recompense  for  which 
I  sinned  these  sins  against  myself  and  mine. 
Tell  me,  I  pray,  if  God-sent  oracles 
Declared  his  son's  hand  should  my  father  slay,  ew 

How  could'st  thou  justly  heap  reproach  on  me, 
Who  had  no  nurture  at  my  father's  hands, 
Nor  at  my  mother's,  but,  as  one  self-grown, 
Rose  then  to  manhood  ?     Or,  if  once  again, 
Born,  as  I  was,  to  misery  and  shame, 
I  with  my  father  came  to  blows,  and  slew  him, 
Not  knowing  what  I  did,  or  unto  whom ; 
How  can'st  thou  rightly  blame  th'  unconscious  sin  ? 
And  thou,  all  shameless,  blushest  not  to  force 
My  lips  to  speak  of  marriage  with  my  mother, 
With  her  who  was  thy  sister.     I  will  speak 
Of  these  things  quickly,  will  not  hold  my  peace. 
Since  thou  hast  ventured  on  such  hateful  speech.          •* 
She  bore  me ;  yes,  she  bore  me — (woe  is  me !) 
Unknowing,  bearing  me  who  knew  her  not ; 
And  having  borne,  to  me  she  issue  gave, 
Her  shame  and  her  reproach.     But  this  I  know, 
That  thou  of  thy  free  will  speak'st  foulest  words 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLON  OS 

Against  her  name  and  mine,  while  I,  against 

My  will  espoused  her,  and  against  my  will 

Now  speak  these  things.     And  yet  my  name  shall  bear 

No  evil  brand  by  reason  of  that  marriage, 

Nor  for  my  father's  death  that  thou  still  harp'st  on,     ' 

With  bitter  words  of  shame  reproaching  me. 

Just  answer  then  this  question  that  I  ask  : 

If  one  should  seek  to  slay  thee  here  and  now, 

Thee,  the  famed  just  one,  would'st  thou  stay  to  ask 

If  'twere  thy  father's  hand  that  aimed  the  blow, 

Or  would'st  thou  straightway  parry  it  ?     I  think, 

As  thou  lov'st  life,  thou  would'st  requite  thy  foe, 

And  would'st  not  look  so  narrowly  at  right ; 

Such  ills,  at  any  rate,  were  those  I  fell  on, 

The  Gods  still  leading  me  ;  nor  can  I  think 

My  father's  soul,  if  it  returned  to  life, 

Would  plead  against  me  here.     But  thou  think'st  fit, — 

Since  just  thou'rt  not,  as  one  who  deems  it  right         100° 

To  speak  of  all  things,  whether  fit  for  speech 

Or  things  which  none  may  utter, — before  these 

To  heap  reproach  on  me.     And  Theseus'  name 

It  suits  thee  well  to  flatter,  and  to  speak 

Of  Athens,  and  her  goodly  polity  ; 

And  yet  thus  praising,  thou  forgettest  this, 

That  she,  if  any  land  reveres  the  Gods, 

In  this  excels  ;  and  yet  from  her  thou  dar'st 

To  steal  a  suppliant,  grey  and  hoar  with  age, 

And  those  two  maidens  hast  already  taken. 

And  for  these  deeds,  these  Goddess-Powers  I  call 

And  supplicate,  and  weary  with  my  prayers, 

To  come  as  helpers  and  allies,  that  thou 

May'st  learn  their  mettle  who  this  land  defend. 

Chor.  The  man,  O  king,  speaks  nobly,  and  his  woes 
Are  grievous,  and  they  call  us  to  assist  him. 

Thes.  Enough  of  words,  for  they  who  snatched  their 
prey 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLON  OS 

Haste  on,  while  we  who  suffer  wrong  stand  still. 

Creon.  What  orders  giv'st  thou  to  a  man  defence- 
less ? 
Thti.  That  thou  should'st  lead  the  way,  and  I  should 

g° 

Thy  escort,  so  that  if  thou  hast  his  girls 
Within  our  borders,  thou  may'st  show  them  me  ; 
But  if  they  get  beyond,  we  need  not  toil  ; 
For  there  are  others,  hastening  to  pursue, 
And  those  who  flee  shall  never  thank  the  Gods 
As  'scaped  from  this  our  land  :  but  lead  thou  on, 
And  know  that  thou  who  hold'st  thy  prey  art  held, 
And  chance  has  caught  thee,  hunter  as  thou  art  ; 
For  gains,  ill  gotten  by  a  fraud  unjust, 
Can  never  prosper.     And  another's  help 
Thoushalt  not  have  in  this,  for  well  I  know 
Thou  had'st  not  ventured  on  so  great  a  wrong 
Alone,  unbacked,  but  there  is  some  one  else, 
Trusting  to  whom  thou  did'st  it.     And  for  me, 
I  must  look  well  to  this  :  nor  leave  my  state 
By  one  man  conquered,  weak  and  powerless. 
Regard's!  thou  aught  of  this,  or  seems  it  vain, 
Both    now,    and    when    thou    planned'st     these     thy 
schemes  ? 

Creon.  While  thou  spcak'st  here,  I  fault  with  nothing 

find; 
When  we  reach  home,  we  shall  know  what  to  do. 

Thes.  Go  on  and  threaten.     Thou,  O  CEdipus, 
Stay  here  in  peace  and  comfort,  trusting  me 
That  I,  unless  I  die,  will  never  rest, 
Before  I  give  thy  children  to  thy  hands. 

(Edip.  God  bless  thee,  Theseus,  for  thy  noble  heart, 
And  all  thy  just  and  generous  care  for  us. 

[Exeunt  THESEUS  and  Athenians,  with  CREON 
and  kis  guards. 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

STROPHE  I 

Ckor.  Ah  !  would  that  I  were  there  1 

Where  onset  fierce  of  men 

Arrayed  for  fight  shall  join 

In  brazen-throated  war  ; 

Or  at  the  Pythian  fane, 

Or  by  the  torch-lit  shores,* 

Where  awful  Powers  still  watch,  t"° 

O'er  solemn  rites  for  men  of  mortal  race; 
Whose  golden  key  is  set  upon  the  lips 
Of  priests,  Eumolpidae,  who  tend  their  shrine. 

There,  so  I  deem,  will  meet 

Our  Theseus,  brave  in  fight, 

And  those  two  sisters,  proof 

Against  all  toil  and  pain, 

Will  meet  on  this  our  land, 
With  cry,  that  uttereth  all  their  hearte'  desire. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Or  else,  perchance,  they  cross 
The  side  that  westward  slopes 
Of  yonder  snow-crowned  height, 
On  to  CEatis'  lawns,8 

1  As  in  the  last  ode,  so  here,  the  scenery  of  Attica  is  brought 
before  us.     Theseus  had  given  orders  that  his  troop  should  hasten 
to  the  meeting-point  of  the  Eleusinian  and  Pythian  roads,  and  the  . 
Chorus  conjectures  what  may  have  happened  on  either  of  them. 
The  "  Pythian  fane"  was  a  temple  of  Apollo  Pythios,  in  a  pass  of 
the  ^Egalean  hills. 

2  The  "  torch-lit  shores"  are  those  of  Eleusis,  where  night-festi- 
vals were  held  by  torch-light  to  commemorate  Demgter's  search  for 
Persephone     These  two  Goddesses  are  the  "awful  Powers,'  the 
"  solemn  rites"  are  the  Eleusinian  mysteries.     The  "golden  key," 
as  a  symbol  of  silence,  was  laid  by  the  priests  »f  the  house  of 
Eumolpos,  upon  the  lips  of  the  initiated.    Here  the  Eumo.pidse 
themselves  are  represented  as  sworn  to  secresy. 

8  The  "snow-crowned  height"  is  probably  Mount  Geraneia,^ 
between  Megaris  and  Corinth.  ^Egaleos  in  Attica  has  been  con-' 
jectured,  but  is  less  suitable. 

i  113  ii 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Speeding  on  goodly  steeds, 

Or  race  of  chariots  swift ; 

Yes,  they  will  take  their  prey, 
For  terrible  our  townsmen's  strength  for  war, 
And  terrible  the  might  of  Theseus'  sons. 
For  every  horse's  curb  is  gleaming  bright, 

And  all  that  sit  their  steeds 

Rush  forth  with  loosened  reins, 

Who  at  Athena's  shrine, 

Where  on  her  steed  she  sits, 

Bow  down,  or  homage  pay 
To  Rhea's  son,  the  sea-God,  ruling  earth. 

STROPHE  II 

Strike  they  or  do  they  linger  ?     Shadowy  hopes 

Come  on  my  soul,  that  he 

Perchance  surrenders  now 

The  maiden  who  hath  borne 
Full  many  a  grief,  and  many  a  wrong  endured 

At  her  own  kinsmen's  hands. 
Yes,  Zeus  this  day  will  work,  will  work  His  way  ; 

Prophet  of  brave  deeds  I. 
An  would  that  I,  a  dove  on  pinions  swift, 
Might  gain  some  cloud  that  floats  in  aether  clear, 

And  glad  my  longing  eyes 
With  sight  of  this  fierce  conflict  of  the  brave. 

ANTI  STROPHE  II 

O  Zeus !  thou  Lord  omnipotent  of  Gods, 

Who  all  on  earth  beholdest, 

Grant  that  our  country's  chiefs, 

With  strength  for  victory, 
May  lay  their  ambush,  and  may  seize  cheir  prey  ; 

And  thou,  O  child  of  Zeus, 
Pallas,  Athena  ;  thou  too  huntsman-God  ; 

Apollo,  in  thy  strength, 


OEDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

And  she,  thy  sister,  following  evermore 
Swift-footed  antelopes  with  dappled  skin  ; 

I  pray  you  come  and  help 
Doubly,  this  land,  and  its  inhabitants. 

[THESEUS  is  seen  approaching  with  ANTIGONE 
and  ISM  EN  E. 

Char.  O  way-worn  stranger,  thou  wilt  not  reproach 
Thy  watchman  as  false  prophet,  for  I  see 
These  maidens  now  approaching  us  once  more. 

(Edip.  Where  ?  where  ?     How  say'st  thou  ? 

Antig.  ^Rushing  to  QEoiPus.]  My  father,  O  my  father ! 
Oh  !  that  some  God  would  grant  thee  but  to  see  110° 
This  best  of  men  who  brings  us  back  to  thee. 

(Edip.  Are  you  both  here,  my  child  ? 

Antig.  Yes,  Theseus'  hands 

And  those  of  his  dear  comrades  rescued  us. 

(Edip.  My  child,  draw  near  thy  father,  give  to  me 
To  clasp  the  form  I  little  hoped  would  come. 

Antig.  Thou  shalt  have  what  thou  ask'st.    That  boon 

thou  seek'st 
Is  what  we  yearn  for. 

(Edip.  Where  then,  where  are  ye  ? 

Antig.  Together,  close  to  thee. 

(Edip.  O  dearest  offspring ! 

Antig.  Dear  to  a  father  is  each  child  of  his. 

(Edip.  Props  of  my  age  are  ye  ! 

Antig.  Sad  age,  sad  props. 

(Edip.  I   have  you    then,  ye    dear  ones,   nor  would 

death 

Be  wholly  dreary,  ye  twain  standing  near. 
Support  me,  then,  on  this  side  and  on  that, 
Close  clinging  to  your  father.     Rest  awhile 
From  all  the  sad  lone  wanderings  of  the  past, 
And  tell  me  briefly  how  the  deed  was  done, 
For  at  your  age  the  fewest  words  are  best. 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

Antig,  Here  is   the  man  who  saved  us ;    hear   thou 

him, 
Whose  is  the  deed,  and  then  my  task  is  light. 

QLdip,  [To  THESEUS.]  Oh,  wonder  not,  my  friend,  if 

I  prolong 

My  tedious  speech,  now  these,  beyond  my  hopes,       n*° 
*Appear  again  ;  for  well  I  know  this  joy 
To  me  has  come  from  no  one  else  but  thee ; 
For  thou  hast  saved  them,  thou,  and  only  thou ; 
And  may  the  Gods  grant  all  that  I  could  wish 
To  thee  and  to  thy  land.     For  I  have  found 
Here  only  among  men  the  fear  of  God, 
The  mood  of  kindness,  and  the  truthful  word  ; 
And  knowing  this,  I  pay  it  back  with  thanks ; 
For  what  I  have,  I  have  through  thee  alone. 
And  now,  O  prince,  I  pray,  thy  right  hand  give,         u" 
That  I  may  gr  up  it,  and,  if  that  may  be, 
Kiss  thy  dear  brow.     And  yet,  how  dare  I  ask  ? 
Why  should  1  wish,  all  foul  and  miserable, 
To  touch  a  man  upon  whose  soul  there  dwell* 
No  taint  of  evil  ?     No  !     I  will  not  ask, 
I  will  not  let  thee  do  it.     They  alone 
Can  feel  for  mourners  who  themselves  have  mourned. 
Farewell,  then,  where  thou  an  ;  from  henceforth  care 
For  me  as  well  as  thou  hast  cared  to-day. 

Thti.  Not  though  thy  words  were  lengthened  out  yet 

more, 

For  joy  of  these  thy  daughters,  should  I  marvel,          n<t 
Nor  if  their  words  thou  should'st  prefer  to  mine. 
[No  pain  or  grievance  touches  me  in  this ;] 
For  it  is  still  my  care  to  make  my  life, 
Nor  by  my  words  illustrious,  but  by  deeds. 
And  thus  I  prove  it :  of  the  things  I  swore 
In  nothing  have  I  failed ;  these  girls  I  bring 
Alive,  unscathed  by  all  the  threatened  harm. 
And  how  the  fight  was  won  what  need  to  boast 
116 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

All  idly,  when  their  lips  shall  tell  thee  all  ? 
But  for  the  news  that  met  me  as  I  came, 
Just  now,  take  counsel.     Short  enough  to  tell, 
It  yet  is  passing  strange.     And  one  should  learn, 
Being  man,  to  think  no  scorn  of  aught  that  is. 

(Edip.  What  is  this,  son  of  ^Egeus?     Speak,  I  pray  ; 
For  I  know  nothing  of  the  things  thou  ask'st. 

Thes.  They  say  that  some  one  near  of  kin  to  thee, 
Yet  not  from  Thebes,  thy  city,  suppliant  sits 
Close  by  Poseidon's  altar,  where  it  chanced, 
When  summoned  here,  I  offered  sacrifice. 

(Edip.  What  kind  of  man  was  he  ?  and  seeking  what  119° 
By  this  his  suppliant  posture  ? 

The$.  Nought  I  know 

But  this  ;  he  asks,  they  tell  me,  short  discourse 
With  thee,  no  heavy  burden. 

(Edip.  What  is  this  ? 

Of  no  light  import  is  this  suppliant's  prayer. 

Thes.  They  say  he  asks  to  come  and  speak  with  thee, 
And  then  return  in  safety  as  he  came. 

(Edip.  Who  can  it  be  that  asks  a  boon  like  this  ? 

Thes.  Think  if  at  Argos  any  kinsman  dwells 
Who  might  desire  to  gain  this  boon  from  thee. 

(Edip.  Stop,  dearest  friend,  I  pray. 

Thes.  What  aileth  thee  ? 

(Edip.  Ask  it  not  of  me  ! 

Thes.  Ask  not  what?     Say  on.   1ITO 

(Edip.  I  know  too  well,  from  what  these  girls  have 

told  me, 
Who  this  strange  suppliant  is. 

Thes.  And  who  is  he, 

That  I  should  charge  the  man  with  any  fault? 

(Edip.  My   son,   O   prince,  from  whom   of  all   that 

live, 
F  couU  least  bear  to  hear  the  sound  of  speech. 

Thes.  Why  so  ?     Hast  thou  not  power  to  hear,  nor  do 
"7 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

The   things  thou  would'st  not  ?     Why  should  hearing 
pain  thee? 

(Edlp.  That  voice  is  hateful  to  a  father's  ear; 
I  pray  thee,  prince,  constrain  me  not  to  yield. 

Tkts.  But  if  his  rights  as  suppliant  should  constrain  us, 
Take  heed  that  thou  shew  reverence  for  our  God.      IK*' 

Ant'tg.  My  father,  be  persuaded,  though  I  speak 
But  a  girl's  counsel.     Suffer  thou  this  friend, 
E'en  as  he  wills,  to  do  as  console  ice  prompts, 
And  as  his  God  demands.     And  grant  to  us 
That  this  our  brother  come ;  for,  take  good  heart, 
He  shall  not  draw  thee  on  against  thy  judgment 
With  words  which  are  not  fitting.     What  the  harm 
To  list  to  words  ?     Yea,  evil  deeds  and  plots 
By  words  disclose  themselves.     He  is  thy  child  ; 
And  therefore,  O  my  father,  'tis  not  right. 
Although  his  deeds  to  thee  be  basest,  vilest,  llw 

To  render  ill  for  ill.     But  let  him  come  ; 
Others  ere  now  have  thankless  offspring  reared, 
And  bitter  wrath  have  felt  ;  but  they,  with  spells 
Of  friends'  good  counsel,  charmed  their  souls  to  peac*. 
Look  not  upon  the  present  but  the  past, 
Thy  father's  and  thy  mother's  woes,  and  thou, 
I  know  full  well,  wilt  see  that  evil  mood 
An  evil  issue  finds  for  evermore  ; 
For  strong  the  proofs  thou  hast  within  thyself, 
In  those  poor  sightless  eyeballs.     Nay,  but  yield —     ' 
Yield  thou  to  us.     It  is  nut  good  to  meet 
With  stiff  denials  those  who  ask  for  right  ; 
Nor,  having  met  with  good  at  others'  hands, 
To  fail  in  rendering  good  for  good  received. 

QLdip.  Your  words  prevail,  my  child,  and  yet  your  joy 
To  me  is  grievous.     Be  it  as  you  will  : 
Only,  my  friend,  if  he  should  hither  come, 
Let  no  one  get  the  mastery  of  my  life. 

Thti,  I  wish  to  hear  those  words  but  once,  old  friend, 
118 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLON  OS 

Not  twice  renewed.     I  am  not  wont  to  boast  ; 

But  know  thou'rt  safe,  if  any  God  saves  me.      [Exit. 

STROPHE 

Ckor.  He  who  seeks  length  of  life, 

Slighting  the  middle  path, 

Shall  seem,  to  me  at  least, 

As  brooding  o'er  vain  dreams. 

Still  the  long  days  have  brought 

Griefs  near,  and  nearer  yet. 

And  joys — thou  canst  not  see 

One  trace  of  what  they  were  ; 

When  a  man  passeth  on 

To  length  of  days  beyond  the  rightful  bourne  ; 
*But  lo,  the  helper  comes  that  comes  to  all, 
*When  doom  of  Hades  looms  upon  his  sight, 

The  bridegroom's  joy  all  gone, 

The  lyre  all  silent  now, 

The  choral  music  hushed, 

Death  comes  at  last. 

ANTISTROPHB 

Happiest  beyond  compare 

Never  to  taste  of  life  ; 

Happiest  in  order  next, 

Being  born,  with  quickest  speed 

Thither  again  to  turn 

From  whence  we  came. 

When  youth  hath  passed  away, 

With  all  its  follies  light, 

What  sorrow  is  not  there  ? 
*What  trouble  then  is  absent  from  our  lot? 
Murders,  strifes,  wars,  and  wrath,  and  jealousy, 
And,  closing  life's  long  course,  the  last  and  worst 

An  age  of  weak  caprice, 

Friendless,  and  hard  of  speech, 
119 


(EDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Where,  met  in  union  strange, 

Dwell  ills  on  ills. 

EPODE 

And  here  this  woe-worn  one 

(Not  I  alone)  is  found  ; 

As  some  far  northern  shore,  mo 

Smitten  by  ceaseless  waves, 

Is  lashed  by  every  wind  ; 

So  ever-haunting  woes, 

Surging  in  billows  fierce, 

Lash  him  from  crown  to  base  ; 

Some  from  the  westering  sun, 

Some  from  the  eastern  dawn, 

These,  from  the  noontide  south, 
Those,  from  the  midnight  of  Rhipasan  hills.1 

Antig.  And  here,  my  father,  so  it  seems,  he  comes, 
The  stranger,  all  alone,  and,  as  he  walks,  125° 

He  sheds  a  flood  of  tears  incessantly. 
QLdip.  Who  is  this  man  ? 

Antig.  He,  who  this  long  time  past 

We  thought  and  spoke  of,  Polyneikes,  comes. 

Enter  POLYNEIKES. 

Polyn.  What  shall  I  do,  ah  me!   .  .  .  mine  ills  bewail, 
My  sisters,  or  shed  tears  for  what  I  see 
My  aged  father  suffering  ?     I  have  found 
Both  him  and  you  in  strange  land  wandering  ; 
And  this  his  garb,  whose  time-worn  squalidness 
Matches  the  time-worn  face,  and  makes  the  form       126° 
All  foul  to  look  on,  and-  his  uncombed  hair, 
Tossed  by  the  breeze,  falls  o'er  his  sightless  brow. 
And  she,  my  sister,  as  it  seems,  provides 
For  this  poor  life  its  daily  sustenance. 

i  The  Rhipsean  hills,  thought  of  as  in  the  far  north  of  Skythia, 
were  to  the  Greeks  as  a  region  of  clouds  and  thick  darkness,  send- 
ing forth  the  chilling  blasts  (pi™!)  of  the  North. 
120 


CEDIPUS   AT  COLONOS 

All  this  I  learn  too  late,  me  miserable  ! 

And  now,  I  bear  my  witness  that  I  come, 

As  to  thy  keeping,  basest  of  the  base  : 

Learn  not  my  faults  from  others.     But  since  there, 

Sharing  the  throne  of  Zeus,  Compassion  dwells, 

Regarding  all  our  deeds  ;  so  let  it  come 

And  dwell  with  thee,  my  father.     For  our  faults 

We  shall  find  healing,  more  we  cannot  add. 

Why  art  thou  silent  ? Speak,  my  father,  speak  ;     12ro 

Turn  not  away. And  wilt  thou  answer  nought, 

But  send'st  me  back  dishonoured  ? Voiceless  still  ? 

Not  speaking  e'en  the  matter  of  thy  wrath  ! 
And  ye,  his  children,  ye,  my  sisters,  strive 
To  ope  your  father's  sealed  and  stubborn  lips 
That  he  reject  me  not,  thus  scorned  and  shamed, 
(God's  suppliant  too)  not  one  word  answering. 

Antig.    Say,  thou    thyself,  poor  sufferer,  what    thou 
need'st,  128° 

For  many  words,  or  giving  sense  of  joy, 
Or  stirring  anger,  or  the  touch  of  pity, 
Have  from  the  speechless  drawn  forth  speech  at  last. 

Polyn.  Well,  I  will  tell  thee.     Thou  dost  guide  me 

well  ; 

First,  calling  on  the  God  to  give  me  help, 
Bowed  at  whose  shrine,  the  ruler  of  this  land 
Raised  me,  and  brought  me  hither,  granting  me 
To  speak  and  hear,  and  safely  to  depart  : 
And  this  I  wish,  my  friends,  from  you  to  gain, 
And  from  my  sisters,  and  my  father  here. 
And  why  I  came,  my  father,  now  I  '11  tell  thee. 
Behold  me  exiled  from  my  fatherland, 
Driven  forth,  because  I  claimed  by  right  of  age 
To  sit  upon  thy  throne  of  sovereignty. 
And  so  Eteocles,  though  younger  born, 
Hath  thrust  me  forth,  not  baffling  me  in  speech, 
Nor  coming  to  the  test  of  strength  and  deed, 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

But  winning  o'er  the  state.     Of  this,  I  say, 

Thy  dread  Erinnyes  is  the  chiefest  cause  ; 

And  next,  I  hear  thus  much  by  prophets  told  : 

For  when  I  came  to  Argos,  Dorian  named, 

Making  the  daughter  of  Adrastos  mine, 

I  gathered  as  confederates  in  my  cause, 

All  who  are  chiefest  in  the  Apian  land,1 

Renowned  in  battle,  that  this  armament, 

With  seven  great  chiefs,  might  follow  me  to  Thebes, 

And  I  might  either  die  a  noble  death, 

Or  drive  to  exile  those  who  did  me  wrong. 

Well  then,  what  chance  has  brought  me  hitherward  ? 

This,  O  my  father.     With  a  suppliant's  prayers 

Both  for  myself,  and  my  allies,  I  come,  13U 

The  seven  great  armies  by  seven  captains  led, 

That  gird  the  plain  of  Thebes.     And  first,  there  comes 

Amphiaraos,  wielding  mighty  spear, 

Supreme  in  war,  supreme  in  auguries ; 

Then  next  in  order,  the  ^Etolian  son 

Of  CEneus,  Tydeus  named  ;  and  Argive  born, 

Eteoclos  the  third  ;  Hippomedon, 

By  Talaos  sent,  the  fourth  ;  and  Capaneus 

The  fifth,  boasts  loud  that  he  with  fiery  blaze, 

Will  soon  lay  waste  the  citadel  of  Thebes, 

And  utterly  destroy  it.     Sixth,  there  comes 

Parthenopaeos,  the  Arcadian,  named 

From  his  chaste  mother,  true  and  worthy  son 

Of  Atalanta.     And  I,  last,  thy  son, 

Or  if  not  thine,  the  child  of  evil  Fate, 

Yet  known  as  thine,  I  lead  the  Argive  host 

Undaunted,  against  Thebes.     And  all  of  us, 

By  these  thy  children,  and  thy  life,  my  father, 

With  one  accord  entreat  thee,  and  implore 

To  let  thy  mood  of  wrath  give  way  to  him 

1  Apian  lanJ.  sc.,  the  Peloponnesus,  so  named,  mythically,  from 
Apis,  the  ion  of  Apollo,  who  freed  it  from  wild  beasts  and  monsters. 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

Who  stands  before  thee,  hastening  to  chastise 

The  brother  who  deprived  me  of  my  home, 

And  robbed  me  of  my  country.     This  we  ask,  1MI 

For  if  there  be  aught  true  in  oracles, 

They  say  the  side  thou  clearest  to  will  win  ; 

Wherefore,  by  all  the  fountains  of  thy  home, 

And  all  thy  household  Gods,  I  pray  thee  yield. 

Poor  and  in  exile  we,  in  exile  thou, 

And  thou  and  I,  the  same  ill  fortune  sharing, 

Live,  hangers-on  on  others,  while,  alas  ! 

The  despot  lord  at  home,  in  pride  of  state 

Mocks  at  us  both  ;  but  I,  if  thou  wilt  join 

Thy  mind  with  mine,  will  scatter  all  his  might, 

Without  much  waste  of  trouble  or  of  time, 

And  so  will  bring  thee  to  thy  home  once  more, 

Stablish  myself,  and  cast  him  out  by  force. 

And  this,  if  thou  consent,  'tis  mine  to  boast : 

Without  thee  I've  no  strength  to  save  myself. 

Ckor.  For  his  sake,  CEdipus,  who  sent  him  here, 
Send  the  man  back,  with  answer  as  seems  fit. 

(Edip.  Were  it  not  so,  my  friends,  that  he  who  rules 
This  land  had  sent  him,  Theseus,  asking  me 
To  let  him  hear  my  words,  no  voice  of  mine 
His  ears  had  heard.     But  now  he  shall  go  forth 
Gaining  his  end,  and  hearing  words  from  me 
Which  never  shall  bring  gladness  to  his  life. 
For  thou,  thou  vile  one,  having  in  thy  hands 
The  thrones  and  sceptre  \vhich  thy  brother  has, 
Who  rules  in  Thebes,  did'st  drive  thy  father  forth, 
And  mad'st  him  homeless,  wearing  weeds  like  these, 
Which  now  thou  weep'st  to  look  on,  when  in  grief 
Like  mine  thou  too  art  fallen.     These  are  things 
I  may  not  weep  for  :  I  must  bear  them  still, 
While  life  lasts,  counting  thee  my  murderer ; 
For  thou  wast  he  who  plunged  me  in  this  woe  ; 
Thou  drov'st  me  into  exile  ;  by  thy  deed, 
1*3 


OEDIPUS   AT   COLON  OS 

A  wanderer  through  the  world,  I  beg  my  bread, 

And  had  I  not  these  girls  to  care  for  me, 

That  too  would  fail,  for  aught  that  thou  would'st  do. 

But  now  they  save  my  life  ;  they  tend  on  me  ; 

No  women  they,  but  men  in  will  to  toil : 

But  ye  are  not  my  sons  ;  I  own  ye  not. 

As  yet  the  God  forbears  to  look  on  thee, 

As  soon  He  shall,  if  these  thy  armies  move 

Against  the  towers  of  Thebes.     It  may  not  be 

That  thou  shalt  ever  lay  that  city  waste, 

But  thou  thyself  shalt  fall,  with  blood  denied  ; 

And  so  shall  fall  thy  brother.     Once  before 

I  breathed  these  curses  deep  upon  you  both, 

And  now  I  bid  them  come  as  my  allies, 

That  ye  may  learn  the  reverence  due  from  sons, 

Nor,  being  what  you  are,  think  scorn  of  me, 

Your  blind  old  father  ;  (these  thou  look'st  on  here 

Have  done  far  other  deeds ;)  and  therefore  they, 

Those  Curses,  sway  thy  prayers,  thy  sovereignty, 

If  still  there  dwells  beside  the  throne  of  Zeus 

The  Eternal  Right  that  rests  on  oldest  laws  ; 

And  thou — may  ruin  seize  thee,  loathed  and  base ! 

I  am  no  more  thy  father  ;  take  my  curse 

Which  now  I  pour  on  thee,  thy  native  land 

Never  by  sword  to  conquer,  nor  again 

Return  to  Argos  in  the  dale,  but  die, 

Slain  by  a  brother's  hand,  and  slaying  him 

Who  drove  thee  forth  to  exile.     So  I  curse 

And  call  on  that  drear  dark  of  Tartaros, 

My  father's  home,  to  snatch  thee  from  the  earth, 

And  call  on  these  dread  Powers,  and  I  invoke 

Ares  who  stirred  this  fearful  hate  in  you. 

Hear  this,  and  go  thy  way  !     And  then  proclaim 

To  all  the  race  of  Cadmos,  and  to  those 

Thy  true  allies,  that  GEdipus  has  left 

To  both  his  sons,  such  legacies  as  these. 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Chor.  I  cannot  wish  thee  joy  of  thy  late  journey, 
O  Polyneikes  !  and  I  bid  thee  turn 
At  once  with  fullest  speed,  thy  backward  way. 

Polyn.  Woe,  then,  for  all  my  wandering,  all  my  failure. 
Woe,  too,  for  all  my  friends.     Is  this  the  goal  14UO 

For  which  from  Argos  starting,  (wretched  me  !) 
We  hither  came  f  an  end  I  dare  not  tell 
To  any  of  my  friends,  nor  turn  them  back  ; 
But  needs  must  meet  my  fate  without  a  word. 
But  O  my  sisters,  ye — for  ye  have  heard 
My  father's  bitter  curse — I  charge  you  both, 
If  these  dire  curses  find  fulfilment  dread, 
And  it  is  given  you  homeward  to  return, 
Do  not  ye  scorn  me  :  give  me  honours  meet, 
A  seemly  burial,  decent  funeral  rites  ;  )41° 

And  this  your  praise,  which  now  ye  get  from  him 
For  whom  ye  labour,  other  praise  shall  bear, 
No  whit  inferior,  for  your  love  to  me. 

Antig.  I  pray  thee,  Polyneikes,  yield  to  me. 

Polfn.  In  what,  thou  dear  Antigone  ?     Speak  on. 

Antlg.  Lead  back  thy  host  to  Argos,  slackening  not, 
Nor  ruin  both  thy  country  and  thyself. 

Polyn.  It  may  not  be.     How,  known  as  coward  once, 
Could  I  again  lead  forth  an  armament  ? 

Antig.  And  why,  dear  boy,  need'st  thou    be  wroth 

again  ? 
What  profit  hast  thou  in  thy  country's  fall  ? 

Polyn.  Retreat  is  base  ;  and  base  that  I,  the  elder, 
Should  thus  be  mocked  and  flouted  by  my  brother. 

Antlg.  And  see'st  thou  then,  how  those  his  oracles 
Thou  leadest  to  fulfilment,  that  you  both 
Should  meet  your  death,  each  from  the  other's  hand  ? 

Polyn.  His  wish  begets  the  thought.     We  may  not 
yield. 

Antig.  O  wretched  me  !   and  who  will  follow  thee, 
Hearing  the  evils  which  his  lips  predict  ? 
"5 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

Polyn.  These  idle  threats  we  tell  not.     Wise  in  war 
Is  he  who  speaks  the  better,  not  the  worse. 

Antig.  And  is  thy  mind,  my  brother,  fixed  and  firm  ? 

Polyn.  Restrain  me  not.     Sad  counsel  must  I  take, 
For  this  my  march,  beforehand  doomed  to  fail, 
By  him,  my  father,  and  the  Erinnyes  dread. 
But  you, — Zeus  bless  you,  if  to  me  in  death 
Ye  grant  the  boon  I  asked  for  ;  for  in  life 
Ye  meet  me  not  again.     And  now,  release  me. 
Farewell !  ye  look  upon  my  face  no  more. 

Antig.  Ah  wretched  me  ! 

Polyn.  Bemoan  thou  not  for  me  ! 

Antig.  And  who  could  keep  from  wailing,   brother 

dear, 
For  thee,  thus  rushing  on  an  open  grave  ?  144U 

Polyn.  Well,  I  will  die,  if  so  I  must. 

Antig .  Not  $o. 

List  thou  to  me. 

Polyn.  Persuade  me  not  to  wrong. 

Antig.  Ah,  misery  !  to  be  bereaved  of  thee  ! 

Polyn.  These  things  depend  on  God,  this  way  or  that, 
To  be  or  not  to  be  ;  but  I  for  you 
Will  pray  the  Gods  that  ye  may  meet  no  harm, 
Who,  as  all  deem,  no  evil  have  deserved.  [Exit. 

[The  ikt  grow  darky  thunder  is  beard  in  the 
distance. 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  Freshly  they  come  on  me, 
Fresh  ills,  and  burdens  grievous  to  be  borne, 
From  this  blind  wanderer,  unless,  perchance, 

His  destiny  comes  on  him  : 
For  what  the  Gods  decree  I  cannot  count 
As  done  in  vain.     Time  evermore  looks  on, 
And  sees  these  things,  now  overturning  some, 
And  now,  within  a  day,  exalting  them. 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

O  Zeu3,  the  high  heaven  thunders ! 
(Edip.  My  children,  oh,  that  some  one,  present  here, 
Would  call  back  Theseus,  best  and  noblest,  hither  ! 
Antig.  What  is  thy  purpose,  father,  that  thou  call'st 

him  ? 
(Edip.  This  winged  thunder,  sent  from  Zeus,  will  lead 


me 


146 


Straightway  to  Hades.     Make  good  speed  to  send. 

\Peals  of  thunder  are  heard  at  intervals  during 
the  remainder  of  the  Choral  Ode. 

ANTISTROPHB  I 

Chor.  So  the  loud  thunder  crashes, 
Hurled  forth  from  Zeus,  with  dread  unspeakable, 
And  fear  creeps  up  to  every  topmost  hair. 

I  tremble  in  my  soul : 

For  lo !  the  fire  from  heaven  has  blazed  again. 
What  will  the  end  be  ?     Much  I  fear.     In  vain 
It  never  comes,  nor  without  issue  dread.  U7° 

O  mighty  heaven  !     O  Zeus ! 
(Edip.  My  children  !  now  the  destined  end  of  life 
Is  come  to  him  who  stands  here  :  flight  is  none. 

Antig.  How  know'st  thou  this  f     What  token  comes 

to  thee  ? 

(Edip.  I  know  right  well.     But,  oh,  let  some  one  fetch, 
Losing  no  time,  the  ruler  of  the  land  ! 

STROPHE  II 

Chor.  Ah  !  ah  !  again  the  crash 
Rolls  piercingly  around. 
Be  pitiful,  O  God,  be  pitiful, 
If  thou  bring'st  darkness  on  our  motherland  ; 
And  may  I  find  thee  gracious  evermore, 
Nor,  looking  on  a  man  accursed,  reap 
A  boon  that  profits  not. 
King  Zeus,  I  call  on  thee  1 
127 


CEDIPUS   AT   CO  LONGS 

QLdip.  Is  your  chief  near  ?     And  will    he  find   me, 

children, 
Still  living,  still  with  wonted  powers  of  mind? 

Antig.  What  secret  would'st  thou  to  his  soul  confide  ? 

(Edif.  I  would  fain  give  the  good  I  promised  him, 
Some  poor  return  for  all  that  I  received. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Chor.  Come,  come,  my  son,  come  quick, 

*Though  on  the  valley's  edge 
*Thou  consecrat'st  the  hearth  for  sacrifice 
To  Ocean's  lord,  Poseidon,  come  thou  quick ; 
For  lo!  the  stranger  fain  would  give  to  thee, 
Thy  city,  and  thy  friends,  just  meed  of  thanb 

For  kind  acts  done.     Come,  haste, 

Haste  onward,  O  my  king. 

Enter  THESEUS. 

Thes.  What  means  this  mingled  din  ?     For  lo !  full 

_    plain, 

My  subjects'  voice,  and  clear  the  stranger's  too. 
Is  it  the  thunderbolt  of  Zeus,  or  shower 
Of  hail  bursts  on  you  ?     When  Heaven  sends  storm  like 

this, 
All  wild  conjectures  seem  most  probable. 

CEdip.  Thou  com'st,  O  prince,  to   one  who    much 

desires  thee, 
And  'tis  a  God  that  blest  thy  journey  hither. 

Thes.  What  new  event,  O  son  of  Laios,  moves  thee  ? 
(Edip.  My  life's  scale  turns  i'  the  balance.      I  would 

fain 
In  death  be  true  to  thee  and  to  thy  State. 

Thes.  What  token  that  the  end  is  near  hast  thou  ? 
(Edip.  The  Gods  themselves  are  heralds  of  my  doom, 
Failing  in  nought  of  all  the  appointed  signs. 
128 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

Thes.  What  is 't,  old  friend,  makes  these  things  clear 
to  thee  ?  1S1° 

(Edip.  These  many  thunder-claps,  that  still  roar  on, 
These  many  flashes  from  the  unconquered  Hand. 

Thes.  I  trust  thy  word,  for  I  perceive  thy  soul 
Divineth  many  things,  and  none  are  false  ; 
And  therefore  tell  me,  what  I  needs  must  do. 

(Edip.  I  will  inform  thee,  son  of  ^Egeus  old, 
Of  things  for  thee  and  for  thy  city,  free 
From  any  touch  of  Time's  consuming  power  : 
And  I  myself,  with  none  to  guide  my  steps, 
Will  show  the  spot  where  I  am  doomed  to  die.  1MO 

And  this,  I  charge  thee,  tell  to  none  on  earth  ; 
Nor  where  the  grave,  nor  e'en  the  region,  tell, 
Whose  fields  enclose  it.     So  shall  he  who  speaks 
Give  greater  strength  to  thee  than  many  shields, 
Or  hireling  force  called  in,  'gainst  neighbouring  lands  ; 
And  for  the  mystic  words  which  none  may  speak, 
Thyself  shalt  learn  them,  going  there  alone, 
For  I  to  none  of  these  may  utter  them, 
Nor  even  to  my  children,  though  I  love  them. 
And  thou,  I  charge  thee,  hide  them  evermore  ;*          U3° 
And  when  thy  death-hour  comes,  to  one  alone, 
Thine  eldest  born,  disclose  them  :  and,  in  turn,. 
Let  each  reveal  to  those  that  follow  him. 
And  so  thou  shalt  establish  this  thy  land, 
By  dragon's  brood  unhurt.8     A  thousand  states, 
Though  governed  well,  have  lightly  waxed  o'er-proud  ; 
For,  though  the  Gods  see  clearly,  they  are  slow 
In  marking  when  a  man,  despising  them, 
Turns  from  their  worship  to  the  scorn  of  fools. 

1  The  local  tradition  of  Colonos  apparently,  while  asserting  that  it 
was  the  resting-place  of  CEdipus,  refrained  from  pointing  out  the 
precise  position  of  his  grave. 

2  "Dragon's  brood" — sc.  the  Thebans,  as  descended  from  the 
men  who  sprang  from  the  dragon's  teeth  sown  by  Cadrnos. 

I  199  I 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Far  be  such  fate  from  thee,  O  yEgeus'  son  ; 

These  things  we  teach  thee,  though  thou  knowest  them. 

And  now,  for  still  the  promptings  of  the  God 

Press  on  me  strongly,  let  us  seek  the  spot, 

Nor  linger  on  in  fear.     My  children,  follow  ; 

A  new  guide  I  for  you,  as  ye  have  been 

To  me  your  father.     Come  ye.     Touch  me  not  ; 

But  let  me  find  the  hallowed  grave  myself, 

Where  fate  has  fixed  that  he  who  speaks  shall  lay 

His  bones  to  rest  in  this  fair  land  we  tread. 

Come  hither, — hither, — this  way.     So  He  leads, 

Hermes  the  guide,  and  She  who  reigns  below.1 

0  Light  !   to  me  all  dark,  thou  once  wast  mine, 
And  now  this  body  feels  thy  ray's  last  touch, 
Now,  and  no  more  ;  for  now  I  grope  my  way, 
To  hide  the  dwindling  remnant  of  my  life 

In  Hades  dark.     And  thou,  of  all  friends  dearest, 
Live  happy,  thou,  thy  country,  and  thy  servants  ; 
And  in  your  great  good  fortune,  think  of  me 
When  I  am  gone,  and  ye  are  prosperous  still. 

[Exit  CEoiPus,  followed,  at  some  distance, 
by  THESEUS,  ANTIGONE,  and  ISMENE. 
Ckor,  If  rightly  I  may  come  with  homage  due 

To  Her  whom  none  may  see, 
And  thee,  O  King  of  those  that  dwell  in  night, 
Aidoneus,  O  Aidoneus ! 

1  supplicate  thy  aid ;  O  grant  that  he, 

The  stranger,  wend  his  way, 

With  no  long  agony, 
No  fate  of  many  woes,  to  that  dark  land, 

The  home  of  all  the  dead, 

Still  wrapt  in  Stygian  gloom. 
For  so,  though  many  woes  unmerited 

Upon  his  life  have  come, 

1  Hermes  in  his  special  function  as  guiding  the  souls  of  the  dead 
to  Hades.    ' '  She  who  reigns  below  "  is,  of  course,  Persephone. 
130 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

God,  the  All-just,  shall  raise  him  up  again. 

ANTISTFOPHE 

Ye  Goddess  Powers,  who  in  the  central  dark1 

Dwell  evermore,  and  thou, 
Dread  form  of  mightiest  monster,  who,  they  say, 

Still  find'st  thy  lair  by  gates 
That  turn  on  well-worn  hinge  continually, 

And  from  thy  cavern  growl'st, 

Watchman  of  Hades  dread  ; 
Bid  him,  thou  Son  of  Earth  and  Tartaros, 

Bid  him,  I  pray,  withdraw, 

Leaving  an  open  path, 
For  him  who  travels  to  the  fields  below, 

There  where  the  dead  abide: 
Thee,  I  invoke,  the  Lord  of  endless  sleep! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  To  tell  my  tale,  in  fewest  words,  good  sirs, 
I  need  but  say  that  CEdipus  is  dead ; 
But  what  has  passed,  the  deeds  that  there  were  done, 
My  tale,  in  short  discourse,  would  fail  to  tell. 

Chor.  Is  he  then  dead,  ill-starred  one? 

Mess.  Think  of  him 

As  having  closed  his  weary  course  of  life. 

Chor.  How?     Was  it  by  God-given,  painless  death ? 

Mess,  Yea,  these  are  things  we  well  may  wonder  at ; 
For  how  he  went  from  hence,  thou  knowest  well, 
(Thyself  being  present)  no  friend  guiding  him, 
But  he  himself  still  led  the  way  for  all ; 
And  when  he  neared  the  threshold's  broken  slope,        168° 
With  steps  of  bronze  fast  rooted  in  the  soil, 

1  The  invocation  passes  from  Persephone  and  Aidoneus  (Pluto) 
to  the  Erinnyes,  daughters  of  Darkness  and  Kerberos.  and  finally  to 
Death  himself,  the  "  Son  of  Earth  and  Tartaros." 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLON  OS 

He  stopped  on  one  of  paths  that  intersect,1 

Close  to  the  hollow  urn  where  still  are  kept 

The  pledges  true  of  Perithos  and  Theseus  ;* 

And  stopping  at  mid  distance  between  it, 

And  the  Thorikian  rock,  and  hollow  pear, 

And  the  stone  sepulchre,  he  sat  him  down, 

And  then  put  off  his  garments  travel-stained, 

And  then  he  called  his  girls,  and  bade  them  fetch 

Clear  water  from  the  stream,  and  bring  to  him 

For  cleansing  and  libation.     And  they  went, 

Both  of  them,  to  yon  hill  we  look  upon, 

Owned  by  Demeter  of  the  fair  green  corn, 

And  quickly  did  his  bidding,  bathed  his  limbs, 

And  clothed  him  in  the  garment  that  is  meet. 

And  when  he  had  his  will  in  all  they  did, 

And  not  one  wish  continued  unfulfilled, 

Zeus  from  the  dark  depths  thundered,  and  the  girls 

Heard  it,  and  shuddering,  at  their  father's  knees 

Falling  they  wept  :  nor  did  they  then  forbear 

Smiting  their  breasts,  nor  groanings  lengthened  out ; 

And  when  he  heard  their  bitter  cry,  forthwith 

Folding  his  arms  around  them,  thus  he  spake  : 

"  My  children  !  on  this  day  ye  cease  to  have 

A  father.     All  my  days  are  spent  and  gone  : 

And  ye  no  more  shall  lead  your  wretched  life, 

Caring  for  me.     Hard  was  it,  that  I  know, 

My  children  !  yet  one  word  is  strong  to  loose, 

Although  alone,  the  burden  of  these  toils, 

For  love  in  larger  store  ye  could  not  have 

From  any  than  from  him  who  standeth  here, 

Of  whom  bereaved  ye  now  shall  lead  your  life." 

1  The  indefiniteness  of  the  description  agrees  with  that  of  the 
local  tradition,  1523. 

8  The  pledges  which  the  true  heroes  had  given  each  other  when 
they  bound  themselves  to  go  down  to  Hades  were  naturally  kept 
near  the  spot  from  which  they  had  descended.  The  Herpon  dedi- 
cated to  them  stood  at  Colonos  in  the  time  of  Pausanias,  i.  18,  4. 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

So  intertwined,  all  wept  and  sobbed  :  and  when 
They  ended  all  their  wailing,  and  the  cry 
No  longer  rose,  there  came  a  silence.     Then 
A  voice  from  some  one  cried  aloud  to  him, 
And  filled  them  all  with  fear,  that  made  each  hair 
To  stand  on  end.     For,  many  a  time,  the  God 
From  many  a  quarter  calls  to  him.     "  Ho  there  ! 
Come,  come,  thou  CEdipus,  why  stay  we  yet  ? 
Long  time  thy  footsteps  linger  on  the  way." 
And  he,  when  he  perceived  the  God  had  called, 
Bade  Theseus  come,  the  ruler  of  the  land  ; 
And  when  he  came,  he  said,  "Ah,  dearest  friend, 
Give  me  thy  hand's  old  pledge  to  these  my  girls ; 
And  ye,  give  yours  to  him.     And  do  thou  swear, 
Of  thy  free  will  never  to  give  them  up, 
But  ever  to  fulfil  what  thou  shalt  judge, 
With  clearest  insight,  best."     And  he,  as  one 
Of  noble  nature,  wept  not,  but  did  vow 
With  solemn  oath  to  do  his  friend's  behest. 
And  this  being  done,  then  straightway  CEdipus 
Clasping  his  children  with  his  sightless  hands, 
Spake  thus  :  "  My  children  !     Now  ye  need  to  show 
Your  tempers  true  and  noble,  and  withdraw 
From  where  ye  stand,  nor  think  it  right  to  look 
On  things  that  best  are  hidden,  nor  to  list 
To  those  that  speak  ;  but  ye,  with  utmost  speed 
Go  forth.     But  Theseus,  who  may  claim  the  right, 
Let  him  remain,  to  learn  the  things  that  come." 
So  much  we  all  together  heard  him  speak, 
And  then,  with  tears  fast  flowing,  groaning  still 
We  followed  with  the  maidens.     Going  on 
A  little  space  we  turned.     And  lo  !  we  saw 
The  man  no  more  ;  but  he,  the  king,  was  there, 
Holding  his  hand  to  shade  his  eyes,  as  one 
To  whom  there  comes  a  vision  drear  and  dread 
He  may  not  bear  to  look  on.     Yet  awhile, 
'33 


(EDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

But  little,  and  we  see  him  bowed  to  earth, 

Adoring  it,  and  in  the  self-same  prayer 

Olympos,  home  of  Gods.     What  form  of  death 

He  died,  knows  no  man,  but  our  Theseus  only. 

For  neither  was  it  thunderbolt  from  Zeus 

With  flashing  fire  that  slew  him,  nor  the  blast 

Of  whirlwind  sweeping  o'er  the  sea  that  hour,  16W 

But  either  some  one  whom  the  Gods  had  sent, 

To  guide  his  steps,  or  else  the  abyss  of  earth 

In  friendly  mood  had  opened  wide  its  jaws 

*Without  one  pang.     And  so  the  man  was  led 

With  nought  to  mourn  for — did  not  leave  the  world 

As  worn  with  pain  and  sickness ;  but  his  end, 

If  any  ever  was,  was  wonderful. 

And  if  I  seem  to  any,  saying  this, 

As  one  who  dreams,  I  would  not  care  to  win 

Their  favour  who  as  dreamer  count  of  me. 

Chor.  Where  are  his  daughters,  and  the  friends  that 
led  them  ? 

Mess.  Not  far  are  they.     Their  voices  wailing  loud 
Give  token  clear  that  they  are  drawing  nigh. 

Enter  ANTIGONE  and  ISME.VE. 

STROPHE 

Antig.  Ah  me !  'tis  ours  to  mourn, 
All  desolate  and  sad, 
Not  once  or  twice  alone, 
Our  father's  taint  of  blood, 
For  whom  long  time  we  bore  our  constant  toil 
In  many  a  land,  and  now  at  last  must  tell, 
Seeing  and  suffering  both, 
Woes  strange  and  wonderful. 
Chor.  What  is  it  then  ? 

Antig.  That,  friends,  ye  well  may  guess. 

Chor.  Has  he  then  gone  ? 
'34 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLON  OS 

Antlg.  As  them  might'st  wish  to  go 

How  else?  since  he  was  one 

Whom  neither  din  of  war 

Nor  fell  disease  approached  ; 

Whom,  with  strange  darkling  fate 

The  land  of  shadows  clasped, 

So  borne  away  from  us ; 

And  lo!  upon  our  eyes 

There  falls  the  night  of  death! 

For  how,  on  some  far  land 

Wandering,  or  ocean  wave, 
Shall  we  now  live  our  life  intolerable? 

Ism.  I  know  not  that  indeed ! 
But  oh  !  that  Hades  dark  and  murderous  *** 

Would  take  me  in  my  woe, 
To  die  with  him,  my  father,  in  his  age  ! 
Henceforth  my  life  is  more  than  I  can  live. 
C/:or.  O  children  !  noblest  pair  1 

Ye  ought  to  bear  right  well 

That  which  bears  God's  intent. 

Be  not  thus  vexed  in  mood ; 
The  path  ye  trod  is  one  ye  should  not  blame. 

ANTISTROPHE 

Antig.  Even  o'er  grief  long  borne 
We  lingered  with  regret, 
And  that  which  erst  we  loved  not, 
Became  the  thing  we  loved; 
So  was  it  when  I  had  him  in  my  grasp. 
My  father,  dearest  one ! 
O  thou,  who  now  art  wrapt 
In  that  eternal  darkness  of  the  grave! 
For  never  shall  thy  name,  though  thou  art  dead, 
To  her  and  me  be  anything  but  dear ! 
Ckor.   And  did  he  fare  .   .  .   ? 
Antig.  He  fared  as  he  desired. 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLON  OS 

Chor.  And  how  was  that? 

Antig.  In  strange  land  as  he  wished 

He  died,  and  sleeps  beneath, 
Where  sweet,  calm  shadows  brood  for  evermore ; 

Nor  did  he  die  unwept ; 
For  still  these  eyes,  my  father,  shed  their  tears,  mo 

Nor  know  I,  in  my  woe, 
How  to  suppress  my  grief,  my  grief  for  thee. 

*Ah  me!  thou  did'st  desire 

*In  this  strange  land  to  die  ; 

And  yet  thou  thus  hast  died, 

Alone,  apart  from  me  ! 
Ism.  Ah  me !  ah  misery ! 

What  fate  of  loneliness, 

What  drear  perplexity, 
Awaits  me  now,  and  thee,  O  dearest  one, 

In  this  our  orphaned  lot  ? 
Ckor.  Yet,  maidens,  since  his  life  171° 

With  blessing  now  has  closed  ; 

Cease  from  your  wailing  drear  ; 

No  man  escapes  from  woe. 

Antig.  Once  more,  dear  sister,  let  us  haste  away. 
Ism.  With  what  intent  ? 

Antig.  A  strong  desire  comes  o'er  me. 

Ism.  What  is 't? 

Antig.  To  see  once  more  the  holy  ground. 

Ism.  Of  whom  ? 

Antig.  My  father.     Woe  is  me  !     Ah,  woe ! 

hm.  But   how  can  this  be  right  ?      And   seest  thou 

not  .  .  .  ? 

Antig.  What  means  this  chiding  ? 
Ism.  This  too  .  .  .  ?         1W) 

Antig.  This  again  1 

Ism.  He  died  unburied,  none  were  by  his  side. 
Antig.  Lead  me,  and  slay  me  o'er  him. 
Ism.  Woe  is  me  ! 

136 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

Where  then  shall  1,  abandoned  and  perplexed, 
Drag  on  my  weary  life  r 

Chor.  Fear  nothing,  maidens  dear  1 

Antig.  Where  escape  ? 

Chor.  Yet  one  escape  there  was  .  .  . 

Aniig.  Of  what  speak'st  thou  ? 

Chor.  Of  thine  and  hers,  from  chance  of  evil  fate.  174° 

Antig.  I  think  this  o'er.  .  .  . 

Chor.  O'er  what  then  broodest  thou  \ 

Antig.  How  to  return  to  what  was  once  our  home 
I  find  not. 

Chor.  Seek  it  not. 

Antig.  Yet  woes  oppress. 

Chor.  Long  since  they  crushed  thee. 

Antig.  Desperate  then  ;  now  worse. 

Ckor.  A  sea  of  troubles,  then,  has  been  your  lot. 

Antig.  Yea,  yea. 

Chor.  I  own  it  too  1 

Antig.  Ah  me  !  ah  me  ! 
Whither  to  turn,  O  Zeus  ? 
For  still,  e'en  now,  the  God 
Leads  me  to  bodings  strange. 

Enter  THESEUS. 

Thes.  Cease  from  your  weeping,  maidens.     Over  those 
For  whom  the  night  of  death  as  blessing  comes, 
We  may  not  mourn.     Such  grief  the  Gods  chastise. 

Antig.  O  son  of  ^Egeus,  at  thy  feet  we  fall. 

Thes.  What  boon  then  seek  ye,  maidens  ? 

Antig.  We  would  see 

With  our  own  eyes  our  father's  sepulchre. 

Thes.  It  may  not  be  :  ye  may  not  thither  go. 

Antig.  How  say'st  thou,  prince,  of  Athens  lord  and 
king  r 

Thes.  O  maidens,  he  forbade  that  mortal  foot 
Should  e'er  draw  nigh  this  spot,  or  mortal  voice 
137 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Invoke  in  prayer  the  holy  burial-place 

Where  now  he  lies.     And,  doing  this,  he  said 

That  I  should  rule  a  land  unvexed  by  ills  ; 

These  things  our  God  has  heard,  and  that  dread  Power, 

The  Oath  of  Zeus,  that  ever  heareth  all. 

Ant'ig.  This  shall  suffice,  if  this  was  what  he  willed. 
But  send  thou  us  to  Thebes  of  old  renown, 
That  so,  if  it  may  be,  we  stop  the  death 
That  comes  upon  our  brothers. 

Thes.  This  will  I 

Accomplish  for  you,  and  vvhate'er  is  best 
For  you,  and  dear  to  him  who  sleeps  below, 
So  lately  gone,  I  may  not  weary  in. 

Chor.  Refrain  ye  then  from  weeping,  cease  to  mourn. 
All  this  is  fixed,  and  nought  of  all  shall  fail.  im 


ANTIGONE* 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

CREON.  King  ^/"Thebes.  Second  Me ^e 

H.KMON,  son  <jf  CKEON.  ECRYDIKE, 

TEIRESIAS,  a  seer.  ANTIGONE,  i 

\daughters  of  CEDIPUS. 
Guard.  ISMENE,      J 

First  Messenger.  Chorus  of  Theban  Elders. 

ARGUMENT.— After  the  death  of  (Edipus,  Antigone  and 
Ismene  returned  to  Thebes,  and  lived  in  the  king's  house  with 
Eteocles,  their  brother.  But  the  seven  great  captains  from 
Argos,  whom  Polyneikes  had  called  to  help  him,  came  against 
Thebes  to  destroy  it,  and  were  hardly  driven  back.  And  the 
two  brothers  having  died  by  each  other's  hands,  the  people  of 
the  city  made  Creon  their  king,  as  being  wise  and  prudent, 
and  next  of  kin  to  the  dead;  and  he  issued  his  decree  that 
Eteocles  should  be  buried  with  due  honour,  but  that  no  man 
should  dare  to  bury  Polyneikes,  who  had  come  purposing  to 
lay  waste  the  city  and  all  the  temples  of  the  Gods. 

1  The  star;ing-point  of  the  Antigone  was  found  in  the  closing 
scene  of  the  Seven  against  Thetifs  of  ^Eschylos.  There  the  herald 
of  the  Council  of  Thebes  proclaims  the  decree  that  Polyneikes  is  to 
be  left  unburied,  and  Antigone  declares  her  resolve  to  bury  him  in 
spite  of  it.  There,  however,  she  is  helped  by  the  Chorus  of  her 
Maidens.  Her  lofty,  solitary  cou.age,  in  defiance  of  her  sister's 
entreaties  and  Hsemon's  love  for  her,  sprang  out  of  Sophocles' 
imagination 

Though  placed  here  as  the  sequel  to  the  two  CEdipus  tragedies, 
the  Anii^one  was,  in  order  of  composition,  in  all  probability,  the 
earliest  of  the  three.  We  find  in  them,  accordingly,  some  references 
to  it,  but  none  in  it  to  them  ;  no  passing  hint  even  at  the  wonderful 
death  of  CEdipus  at  Colonos. 

'39 


s 


ANTIGONE 

SCINE.—  THEBM,  in  front  of  the  Palace.      Early  meriting.      Hillt  in  tkt 
distance  an  the  left ;   on  the  right  the  city. 

Enter  ANTIGONE  and  ISMENE. 

Antlg.   Ismene,  mine  own  sister,  darling  one ! 
Is  there,  of  ills  that  sprang  from  CEdipus, 
One  left  that  Zeus  will  fail  to  bring  on  us, 
The  two  who  yet  remain  ?     Nought  is  there  sad, 
'Nought  full  of  sorrow,  steeped  in  sin  or  shame, 
But  I  have  seen  it  in  thy  woes  and  mine. 
And  now,  what  new  decree  is  this  they  tell, 
Our  captain  has  enjoined  on  all  the  State  ? 
Know'st  thou  ?     Hast   heard  ?     Or  are  they  hid  from 

thee, 
The  ills  that  come  from  foes  upon  our  friends  ? 

Ism,  No  tidings  of  our  friends,  Antigone, 
Pleasant  or  painful,  since  that  hour  have  come, 
When  we,  two  sisters,  lost  our  brothers  twain, 
In  one  day  dying  by  a  twofold  blow. 
And  since  in  this  last  night  the  Argive  host 
Has  left  the  field,  I  nothing  further  know, 
Nor  brightening  fortune,  nor  increasing  gloom. 

Antig.  That  knew  I  well,  and  therefore  sent  for  thee 
Beyond  the  gates,  that  thou  may'st  hear  alone. 

Ism,  What  meanest  thou  ?     It  is  but  all  too  clear      *' 
Thou  broodest  darkly  o'er  some  tale  of  woe. 

Antlg.  And  does  not  Creon  treat  our  brothers  twain 
One  with  the  rites  of  burial,  one  with  shame  ? 


ANTIGONE 

Eteocles,  so  say  they,  he  interred 

Fitly,  with  wonted  rites,  as  one  held  meet 

To  pass  with  honour  to  the  dead  below. 

But  for  the  corpse  of  Polyneikes,  slain 

So  piteously,  they  say,  he  has  proclaimed 

To  all  the  citizens,  that  none  should  give 

His  body  burial,  or  bewail  his  fate, 

But  leave  it  still  unwept,  unsepulchred,1 

A  prize  full  rich  for  birds  that  scent  afar 

Their  sweet  repast.     So  Creon  bids,  they  say, 

Creon  the  good,  commanding  thee  and  me, — 

Yes,  me,  I  say, — and  now  is  coming  here, 

To  make  it  clear  to  those  who  know  it  not, 

And  counts  the  matter  not  a  trivial  thing  ; 

But  whoso  does  the  things  that  he  forbids, 

For  him  there  waits  within  the  city's  walls 

The  death  of  stoning.     Thus,  then,  stands  thy  case  ; 

And  quickly  thou  wilt  show,  if  thou  art  born 

Of  noble  nature,  or  degenerate  liv'st, 

Base  child  of  honoured  parents. 

Ism.  How  could  I, 

O  daring  in  thy  mood,  in  this  our  plight, 
Or  breaking  law  or  keeping,  aught  avail  ? 

Antig.  Wilt  thou  with  me  share  risk  and  toil  ?     Look 
to  it. 

Ism.  What  risk  is  this  ?     What  purpose  fills  thy  mind  ? 

Antig.  Wilt  thou  help  this  my  hand  to  lift  the  dead  ? 

Ism.  Mean'st  thou  to  bury  him,  when  law  forbids  ? 

Antig.  He  is  my  brother ;  yes,  and  thine,  though  thou 
Would'st  fain  he  were  not.  I  desert  him  not. 

Ism.  O  daring  one,  when  Creon  bids  thee  not  ? 

Antig.  He  has  no  right  to  keep  me  from  mine  own. 

>  The  horror  with  which  the  Greek  mind  thought  of  this  preven- 
tion of  burial  rites  is  seen  in  the  prayt-r  of  Poiyneikes  ((Ed.  Col. 
1410),  and  the  dispute  between  Menelaos  and  Teucros  as  to  the 
burial  of  Aias. 


ANTIGONE 

Ism.  Ah  me !  remember,  sister,  how  our  sire 
Perished,  with  hate  o'erwhelmed  and  infamy, 
From  evils  that  himself  did  bring  to  light,1 
With  his  own  hand  himself  of  eyes  bereaving, 
And  how  his  wife  and  mother,  both  in  one, 
With  twisted  cordage,  cast  away  her  life  ; 
And  thirdly,  how  oor  brothers  in  one  day 
In  suicidal  conflict  wrought  the  doom, 
Each  of  the  other.     And  we  twain  are  left ; 
And  think,  how  much  more  wretchedly  than  all 
We  twain  shall  perish,  if,  against  the  law, 
We  brave  our  sovereign's  edict  and  his  power. 
This  first  we  need  remember,  we  were  born 
Women  ;  as  such,  not  made  to  strive  with  men. 
And  next,  that  they  who  reign  surpass  in  strength, 
And  we  must  bow  to  this,  and  worse  than  this. 
I  then,  entreating  those  that  dwell  below, 
To  judge  me  leniently,  as  forced  to  yield, 
Will  hearken  to  our  rulers.     Over-zeal 
That  still  will  meddle,  little  wisdom  shows. 

Antig.  I  will  not  ask  thee,  nor  though  thou  should'st 

wish 

To  do  it,  should'st  thou  join  with  my  consent. 
Do  what  thou  wilt,  I  go  to  bury  him ; 
And  good  it  were,  in  doing  this,  to  die. 
Loved  I  shall  be  with  him  whom  I  have  loved, 
Guilty  of  holiest  crime.     More  time  is  mine 
In  which  to  share  the  favour  of  the  dead, 
Than  that  of  those  who  live  ;  for  I  shall  rest 
For  ever  there.     But  thou,  if  thus  thou  please, 
Count  as  dishonoured  what  the  Gods  approve. 

litn.  I  do  them  no  dishonour,  but  I  find 

1  Here  the  impression  left  is,  that  the  blindness  was  followed 

almost  immediately  by  the  death.     The  thought  of  the  long  discipline 

of  suffering  and  tranquil  death  which  we  find   in  the  (Ecttpus  tit 

Colonos  belonged  to  a  later  period  of  the  poet's  life. 

'43 


ANTIGONE 

Myself  too  weak  to  war  against  the  State. 

Antig.  Make  what  excuse  thou  wilt,  I  go  to  rear 
A  grave  above  the  brother  whom  I  love. 

Ism.  Ah,  wretched  me !  how  much  I  fear  for  thee ! 

Antig.  Fear   not   for   me.     Thine    own    fate    raise 
safety.  *° 

Ism.  At  any  rate,  disclose  this  deed  to  none ; 
Keep  it  close  hidden  :  I  will  hide  it  too. 

Antig.  Speak  out!  I  bid  thee.     Silent,  thou  wilt  be 
More  hateful  to  me,  if  thou  fail  to  tell 
My  deed  to  all  men. 

Ism.  Fiery  is  thy  mood, 

Although  thy  deeds  the  very  blood  might  chill. 

Antig.  I  know  I  please  the  souls  I  ought  to  please. 

Ism.  Yes,  if  thou  canst ;  thou  seek'st  the  impossible.  °° 

Antig.  When  strength  shall  fail  me,  then  I  '11  cease  to 
strive. 

Ism.  We  should  not  hunt  the  impossible  at  all. 

Antig.  If  thou  speak  thus,  my  hatred  wilt  thou  gain, 
And  rightly  wilt  be  hated  of  the  dead. 
Leave  me  and  my  ill  counsel  to  endure 
This  dreadful  doom.     I  shall  not  suffer  aught 
So  evil  as  a  death  dishonourable. 

Ism.  Go  then,  if  so  thou  wilt.     Of  this  be  sure, 
Wild  as  thou  art,  thy  friends  must  love  thee  still. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Chorus  of  Theban  Elder  i. 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  O  light  of  yon  bright  sun,1 
Fairest  of  all  that  ever  shone  on  Thebes, 
Thebes  with  her  seven  high  gates, 
Thou  didst  appear  that  day, 

1  The  action  of  the  drama  begins  at  daybreak,  and  this  hymn  is 
therefore  sung  to  the  sun  at  its  rising. 


ANTIGONE 

Eye  of  the  golden  dawn, 

O'er  Dirke's  streams  advancing,, 

Driving  with  quickened  curb, 

In  haste  of  headlong  flight, 
The  warrior1  who,  in  panoply  of  proof, 
From  Argos  came,  with  shield  of  glittering  wnite ; 

Whom  Polyneikes  brought, 

Roused  by  the  strife  of  tongues 

Against  our  fatherland, 

As  eagle  shrieking  shrill, 

He  hovered  o'er  our  land, 

With  snow-white  wing  bedecked. 

Begirt  with  myriad  arms, 

And  flowing  horsehair  crests. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

He  stood  above  our  towers, 
Encircling,  with  his  spears  all  blood-bestained, 

The  portals  of  our  gates ; 

He  went,  before  he  filled  «*» 

His  jaw  with  blood  of  men, 

Ere  the  pine-fed  Hephaestos 

Had  seized  our  crown  of  towerj 

So  loud  the  battle  din 
That  Ares  loves  was  raised  around  his  icar, 
A  conflict  hard  e'en  for  his  dragon  foe.2 

For  breath  of  haughty  speech 

Zeus  hateth  evermore  ; 

And  seeing  them  advance, 

With  mighty  rushing  stream, 

1  The  ' '  warrior  "  is  used  collectively  for  the  whole  Argive  army 
under  Adrastos  that  had  come  to  invade  Thebes  and  support  the 
cause  of  Polyneikes. 

2  As  the  Argive  army  was  compared  to  the  eagle,  so  Thebes  to 
the  eagle's  great  enemy,  the  dragon.     Here,  probably,  there  was  a 
half-latent  reference  to  the  mytkos  of  the  descent  of  the  Thebans 
from  the  dragon's  teeth  sown  by  Cadmos. 

i  145  « 


ANTIGONE 

And  clang  of  golden  arms, 
With  brandished  fire  he  hurls 
One  who  rushed  eagerly 
From  topmost  battlement 
To  shout  out,  "  Victory  ! " 

STROPHE  II 

Crashing  to  earth  he  fell,1 
Down-smitten,  with  his  torch, 
Who  came,  with  madman's  haste, 
Drunken,  with  frenzied  soul, 
And  swept  o'er  us  with  blasts, 
The  whirlwind  blasts  of  hate. 
Thus  on  one  side  they  fare, 
And  Ares  great,  like  war-horse  in  his  strength, 
Smiting  now  here,  now  there, 
Brought  each  his  several  fate.  *** 

For  seven  chief  warriors  at  the  seven  gates  met, 
Equals  with  equals  matched, 
To  Zeus,  the  Lord  of  War, 
Left  tribute,  arms  of  bronze  ; 
All  but  the  hateful  ones, 

Who,  from  one  father  and  one  mother  sprung, 
Stood  wielding,  hand  to  hand, 
Their  two  victorious  spears, 
And  had  their  doom  of  death  as  common  lot. 

ANTISTROPHK  II 
But  now,  since  Victory, 
Of  mightiest  name,  hath  come 
To  Thebes,  of  chariots  proud, 

Joying  and  giving  joy,  18° 

After  these  wars  just  past, 

*  The  unnamed  leader  whose  fall  is  thus  singled  out  for  special 
mention  was  Capaneus,  who  bore  on  his  shield  the  figure  of  a  naked 
wan  brandishing  a  torch  and  crying,  "  I  will  burn  the  city." 
146 


ANTIGONE 

Learn  ye  forgetfulness, 
And  all  night  long,  with  dance  and  voice  of  hymns, 

Let  us  go  round  in  state 

To  all  the  shrines  of  Gods, 
While  Bacchos-  making  Thebes  resound  with  dance, 

Begins  the  strain  of  joy; 

But,  lo  !  our  country's  king, 

Creon,  Mencekeus'  son, 

New  ruler,  by  new  change, 

And  providence  of  God, 
Comes  to  us,  steering  on  some  new  device  ; 

For,  lo  !  he  hath  convened, 

By  herald's  loud  command,  ** 

This  council  of  the  elders  of  our  land. 

Enter  CREON. 

Creon.  My  friends,  for  what  concerns  our  common- 
wealth, 

The  Gods  who  vexed  it  with  the  billowing  storms 
Have  righted  it  again  ;  and  I  have  sent, 
By  special  summons,  calling  you  to  come 
Apart  from  all  the  others.     This,  in  part, 
As  knowing  ye  did  all  along  uphold 
The  might  of  Laios'  throne,  in  part  again, 
Because  when  CEdipus  our  country  ruled, 
And,  when  he  perished,  then  towards  his  sons 
Ye  still  were  faithful  in  your  steadfast  mind. 
And  since  they  fell,  as  by  a  double  death,  I7t 

Both  on  the  selfsame  day  with  murderous  blow, 
Smiting  and  being  smitten,  now  I  hold 
Their  thrones  and  all  their  power  of  sov'reignty 
By  nearness  of  my  kindred  to  the  dead. 
And  hard  it  is  to  learn  what  each  man  is, 
In  heart  and  mind  and  judgment,  till  he  gain 
Experience  in  princedom  and  in  laws. 


ANTIGONE 

For  me,  whoe'er  is  called  to  guide  a  State, 
And  does  not  catch  at  counsels  wise  and  good, 
But  holds  his  peace  through  any  fear  of  man, 
I  deem  him  basest  of  all  men  that  are, 
And  so  have  deemed  long  since  ;  and  whosoe'er 
As  worthier  than  his  country  counts  his  friend, 
I  utterly  despise  him.     I  myself, 
Zeus  be  my  witness,  who  beholdeth  all, 
Would  not  keep  silence,  seeing  danger  come, 
Instead  of  safety,  to  my  subjects  true. 
Nor  could  I  take  as  friend  my  country's  foe; 
For  this  I  know,  that  there  our  safety  lies, 
And  sailing  while  the  good  ship  holds  her  course, 
We  gather  friends  around  us.     By  these  rules 
And  such  as  these  do  I  maintain  the  State. 
And  now  I  come,  with  edicts,  close  allied 
To  these  in  spirit,  for  my  citizens, 
Concerning  those  two  sons  of  CEdipus. 
Eteocles,  who  died  in  deeds  of  might 
Illustrious,  fighting  for  our  fatherland, 
To  honour  him  with  sepulture,  all  rites 
Duly  performed  that  to  the  noblest  dead 
Of  right  belong.      Not  so  his  brother  ;  him 
I  speak  of,  Polyneikes,  who,  returned 
From  exile,  sought  with  fire  to  desolate 
His  father's  city  and  the  shrines  of  Gods, 
Yes,  sought  to  glut  his  rage  with  blood  of  men, 
And  lead  them  captives  to  the  bondslave's  doom 
Him  I  decree  that  none  shall  dare  entomb, 
That  none  shall  utter  wail  or  loud  lament, 
But  leave  his  corpse  unburied,  by  the  dogs 
And  vultures  mangled,  foul  to  look  upon. 
Such  is  my  purpose.     Ne'er,  if  I  can  help, 
Shall  the  vile  have  more  honour  than  the  just  ; 
But  whoso  shows  himself  my  country's  friend, 
Living  or  dead,  from  me  shall  honour  gain. 
,48 


ANTIGONE 

Chor.  This  is  thy  pleasure,  O  Mencekeus*  son, 
For  him  who  hated,  him  who  loved  our  State  ; 
And  thou  hast  power  to  make  what  laws  thou  wilt, 
Both  for  the  dead  and  all  of  us  who  live. 

Creon.  Be  ye  then  guardians  of  the  things  I  speak. 

Chor.  Commit  this  task  to  one  of  younger  years. 

Creon.  Nay,  watchmen  are  appointed  for  the  corpse. 

Chor.  What  other  task  then  dost  thou  lay  on  us  ? 

Creon.  Not  to  consent  with  those  that  disobey. 

Chor.  None  are  so  foolish  as  to  seek  for  death.          ** 

Creon.  Yet  that  shall  be  the  doom  ;  but  love  of  gain 
Hath  oft  with  false  hopes  lured  men  to  their  death. 

Enter  Guard. 

Guard.  I  will  not  say,  O  king,  that  I  have  come 
Panting  with  speed,  and  plying  nimble  feet, 
For  I  had  many  halting-points  of  thought, 
Backwards  and  forwards  turning,  round  and  round  : 
For  now  my  mind  would  give  me  sage  advice  ; 
"  Poor  wretch,  why  go  where  thou  must  bear  the  blame  ? 
Or  wilt  thou  tarry,  fool  ?     Shall  Creon  know 
These  things  from    others  ?       How    wilt    thou    'scape 
grief  ?  "  ™> 

Revolving  thus,  I  came  in  haste,  yet  slow, 
And  thus  a  short  way  finds  itself  prolonged  ; 
But,  last  of  all,  to  come  to  thee  prevailed. 
And  though  I  tell  of  nought,  yet  I  will  speak  ; 
For  this  one  hope  I  cling  to,  might  and  main, 
That  I  shall  suffer  nought  but  destiny. 

Creon.  What  is  it  then  that  causes  such  dismay  r 

Guard.  First,  for  mine  own  share  in  it,  this  I  say, 
The  deed  I  did  not,  do  not  know  who  did, 
Nor  should  I  rightly  come  to  ill  for  it.  24C 

Creon.  Thou  feel'st  thy  way  and  fencest  up  thy  deed 
All  round  and  round.  'Twould  seem  thou  hast  some  news. 


ANTIGONE 

Guard.  Yea,  news  of  fear  engenders  long  delay. 

Creon.  Wilt  thou  not  speak,  and  then  depart  in  peace? 

Guard.  Well,  speak  I  will.     The   corpse  .  .      Some 

one  has  been 

But  now  and  buried  it,  a  little  dust 
O'er  the  skin  scattering,  with  the  wonted  rites. 

Creon.  What  say'st  thou  ?    What  man  dared  this  deed 
of  guilt  ? 

Guard.  I  know  not.  Neither  was  there  stroke  of  axe, 
Nor  earth  cast  up  by  mattock.     All  the  soil  ^ 

Was  dry  and  hard,  no  track  of  chariot  wheel  ; 
But  he  who  did  it  went  and  left  no  sign. 
And  when  the  first  day-watchman  showed  it  us, 
The  sight  caused  wonder  and  sore  grief  to  all  ; 
For  he  had  disappeared  :  no  tomb  indeed 
Was  over  him,  but  dust  all  lightly  strown, 
As  by  some  hand  that  shunned  defiling  guilt  ; 
And  no  sign  was  there  of  wild  beast  or  dog 
Having  come  and  torn  him.     Evil  words  arose 
Among  us,  guard  to  guard  imputing  blame, 
Which  might  have  come  to  blows,  and  none  was  there 
To  check  its  course,  for  each  to  each  appeared 
The  man  whose  hand  had  done  it.     Yet  not  one 
Had  it  brought  home,  but  each  disclaimed  all  knowledge  ; 
And  we  were  ready  in  our  hands  to  take 
Bars  of  hot  iron,  and  to  walk  through  fire, 
And  call  the  Gods  to  witness  none  of  us 
Were  privy  to  his  schemes  who  planned  the  deed, 
Nor  his  who  wrought  it.     Then  at  last,  when  nought 
Was  gained  by  all  our  searching,  some  one  speaks, 
Who  made  us  bend  our  gaze  upon  the  ground 
In  fear  and  trembling  ;  for  we  neither  saw 
How  to  oppose  it,  nor,  accepting  it, 
How  we  might  prosper  in  it.     And  his  speech 
Was  this,  that  all  our  tale  should  go  to  thee, 
Not  hushed  up  anywise.     This  gained  the  day  ; 
150 


ANTIGONE 

And  me,  ill-starred,  the  lot  condemns  to  win 
This  precious  prize.     So  here  I  come  to  thee 
Against  my  will ;  and  surely  do  I  trow 
Thou  dost  not  wish  to  see  me.     Still  'tis  true 
That  no  man  loves  the  messenger  of  ill. 

Chor.  For   me,  my  prince,   my  mind   some   time  has 

thought 
If  this  perchance  has  some  divine  intent. 

Creon.  Cease  then,  before  thou  fillest  me  with  wrath, 
Lest  thou  be  found,  though  full  of  years,  a  fool. 
For  what  thou  say'st  is  most  intolerable, 
That  for  this  corpse  the  providence  of  Gods 
Has  any  care.     What  !  have  they  buried  him, 
As  to  their  patron  paying  honours  high. 
Who  came  to  waste  their  columned  shrines  with  fire, 
To  desecrate  their  offerings  and  their  lands, 
And  all  their  wonted  customs  ?     Dost  thou  see 
The  Gods  approving  men  of  evil  deeds  ? 
It  is  not  so  ;  but  men  of  rebel  mood,  ** 

Lifting  their  head  in  secret  long  ago, 
Still  murmured  thus  against  me.     Never  yet 
Had  they  their  neck  beneath  the  yoke,  content 
To  bear  it  with  submission.     They,  I  know, 
Have  bribed  these  men  to  let  the  deed  be  done. 
No  thing  in  use  by  man,  for  power  of  ill, 
Can  equal  money.     This  lays  cities  low, 
This  drives  men  forth  from  quiet  dwelling-place, 
This  warps  and  changes  minds  of  worthiest  stamp, 
To  turn  to  deeds  of  baseness,  teaching  men 
All  shifts  of  cunning,  and  to  know  the  guilt 
Of  every  impious  deed.     But  they  who,  hired, 
Have  wrought  this  crime,  have  laboured  to  their  cost, 
Or  soon  or  late  to  pay  the  penalty. 
But  if  Zeus  still  claims  any  awe  from  me, 
Know  this,  and  with  an  oath  I  tell  it  thee, 
Unless  ye  find  the  very  man  whose  hand 
•5' 


ANTIGONE 

Has  wrought  this  burial,  and  before  mine  eyes 
Present  him  captive,  death  shall  not  suffice, 
Till  first,  hung  up  still  living,  ye  shall  show 
The  story  of  this  outrage,  that  henceforth, 
Knowing  what  gain  is  lawful,  ye  may  grasp 
At  that,  and  learn  it  is  not  meet  to  love 
Gain  from  all  quarters.      By  base  profit  won 
You  will  see  more  destroyed  than  prospering. 

Guard.  May  I  then  speak  ?     Or  shall  I  turn  and  go  ? 

Creon.  Sce'st  not  e'en  yet  how  vexing  are  thy  words  ? 

Guard.  Is  it  thine  ears  they  trouble,  or  thy  soul  ? 

Creon.  Why  dost  thou  gauge  my  trouble  where  it  is  ? 

Guard.  The  doer  grieves  thy  heart,  but  I  thine  ears. 

Creon.  Pshaw  !  what   a    babbler,   born    to    prate    art 
thou !  «» 

Guard.  May  be  ;  yet  I  this  deed,  at  least,  did  not. 

Creon.  Yes,  and  for  money  ;  selling  e'en  thy  soul. 

Guard.  Ah  me ! 

How  dire  it  is,  in  thinking,  false  to  think ! 

Creon.  Prate  about  thinking  :  but  unless  ye  show 
To  me  the  doers,  ye  shall  say  ere  long 
That  scoundrel  gains  still  work  their  punishment.  [Exit. 

Guard.  God  send  we  find  him  !     Should  we  find  him 

not, 

As  well  may  be,  (for  this  must  chance  decide,) 
You  will  not  see  me  coming  here  again ; 
For  now,  being  safe  beyond  all  hope  of  mine,  **" 

Beyond  all  thought,  I  owe  the  Gods  much  thanks. 

[Exit. 

STROPHE  I 

C/or.  Many  the  forms  of  life, 
Wondrous  and  strange  to  see, 
But  nought  than  man  appears 
More  wondrous  and  more  strange. 
He,  with  the  wintry  gales, 
'5* 


ANTIGONE 

O'er  the  white  foaming  sea, 

'Mid  wild  waves  surging  round, 

Wendeth  his  way  across  : 
Earth,  of  all  Gods,  from  ancient  days  the  first, 

Unworn  and  undecayed. 
He,  with  his  ploughs  that  travel  o'er  and  o'er, 

Furrowing  with  horse  and  mule, 

Wears  ever  year  by  year. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

The  thoughtless  tribe  of  birds, 

The  beasts  that  roam  the  fields, 

The  brood  in  sea-depths  born, 

He  takes  them  all  in  nets 

Knotted  in  snaring  mesh. 

Man,  wonderful  in  skill. 

And  by  his  subtle  arts 

He  holds  in  sway  the  beasts 
That  roam  the  fields,  or  tread  the  mountain's  height 

And  brings  the  binding  yoke 
Upon  the  neck  of  horse  with  shaggy  mane, 

Or  bull  on  mountain  crest, 

Untameable  in  strength. 

STROPHE  II 

And  speech,  and  thought  as  swift  as  wind, 
And  tempered  mood  for  higher  life  of  states, 

These  he  has  learnt,  and  how  to  flee 

Or  the  clear  cold  of  frost  unkind, 

Or  darts  of  storm  and  shower, 
Man  all-providing.      Unprovided,  he 
Meeteth  no  chance  the  coming  days  may  bring ; 

Only  from  Hades,  still 

*He  fails  to  find  escape, 

Though  skill  of  art  may  teach  him  how  to  flee 
From  depths  of  fell  disease  incurable. 


ANTIGONE 

ANTISTROPHE  It 

So,  gifted  with  a  wondrous  might, 
Above  all  fancy's  dreams,  with  skill  to  plan, 

Now  unto  evil,  now  to  good, 

He  turns.     While  holding  fast  the  laws, 

His  country's  sacred  rights, 
That  rest  upon  the  oath  of  Gods  on  high, 
High  in  the  State  :  an  outlaw  from  the  State, 

When  loving,  in  his  pride, 

The  thing  that  is  not  good ; 

Ne'er  may  he  share  my  hearth,  nor  yet  my  thoughts, 
Who  worketh  deeds  of  evil  like  to  this. 

Enter  Guards,  bringing  in  ANTIOONB. 

As  to  this  portent  which  the  Gods  have  sent,. 
I  stand  in  doubt.  Can  I,  who  know  her,  say 
That  this  is  not  the  maid  Antigone  ? 

0  wretched  one  of  wretched  father  born, 
Thou  child  of  CEdipus, 

What  means  this  ?     Surely  'tis  not  that  they  bring 
Thee  as  a  rebel  'gainst  the  king's  decree, 
And  taken  in  the  folly  of  thine  act  ? 

Guard.  Yes  !   She  it  was  by  whom  the  deed  was  done. 
We  found  her  burying.     Where  is  Creon,  pray  ? 

Chor.  Back  from  his  palace  comes  he  just  in  time. 

Enter  CREON. 

Creon.  What  chance  is  this,  with  which  my  coming  fit»  ? 
Guard.   Men,  O  my  king,  should  pledge  themselves  to 

nought ; 
For  cool  reflection  makes  their  purpose  void. 

1  surely  thought  I  should  be  slow  to  come  here, 
Cowed  by  thy  threats,  which  then  fell  thick  on  me; 
But  now  persuaded  by  the  sweet  delight 

'54 


ANTIGONE 

Which  comes  unlocked  for,  and  beyond  our  hopes, 
I  come,  although  I  swore  the  contrary, 
Bringing  this  maiden,  whom  in  act  we  found 
Decking  the  grave.     No  need  for  lots  was  now  ; 
The  prize  was  mine,  and  not  another  man's. 
And  now,  O  king,  take  her,  and  as  thou  wilt, 
Judge  and  convict  her.     I  can  claim  a  right 
To  wash  my  hands  of  all  this  troublous  coil. 

Creon.  How  and  where  was  it  that  ye  seized    and 
brought  her  ? 

Guard.  She  was  in  act  of  burying.  Thou  knowest  all. 

Creon.  Dost  know  and  rightly  speak  the  tale  thou  tell'st  ? 

Guard.  I  saw  her  burying  that  self-same  corpse 
Thou  bad'st  us  not  to  bury.      Speak  I  clear  ? 

Creon.  How  was  she  seen,  and  taken  in  the  act  ? 

Guard.  The  matter  passed  as  follows: — When  we  came, 
With  all  those  dreadful  threats  of  thine  upon  us, 
Sweeping  away  the  dust  which,  lightly  spread, 
Covered  the  corpse,  and  laying  stript  and  bare 
The  tainted  carcase,  on  the  hill  we  sat 
To  windward,  shunning  the  infected  air, 
Each  stirring  up  his  fellow  with  strong  words, 
If  any  shirked  his  duty.     This  went  on 
Some  time,  until  the  glowing  orb  of  day 
Stood  in  mid  heaven,  and  the  scorching  heat 
Fell  on  us.     Then  a  sudden  whirlwind  rose, 
A  scourge  from  heaven,  raising  squalls  on  earth, 
And  filled  the  plain,  the  leafage  stripping  bare 
Of  all  the  forest,  and  the  air's  vast  space 
Was  thick  and  troubled,  and  we  closed  our  eyes, 
Until  the  plague  the  Gods  had  sent  was  past ; 
And  when  it  ceased,  a  weary  time  being  gone, 
The  girl  is  seen,  and  with  a  bitter  cry, 
Shrill  as  a  bird's,  when  it  beholds  its  nest 
All  emptied  of  its  infant  brood,  she  wails  ; 
Thus  she,  when  she  beholds  the  corpse  all  stript, 
'55 


ANTIGONE 

Groaned  loud  with  many  meanings,  and  she  called 

Fierce  curses  down  on  those  who  did  the  deed. 

And  in  her  hand  she  brings  some  fine,  dry  dust, 

And  from  a  vase  of  bronze,  well  wrought,  upraised,     °° 

She  pours  the  three  libations  o'er  the  dead.1 

And  we,  beholding,  give  her  chase  forthwith, 

And  run  her  down,  nought  terrified  at  us. 

And  then  we  charged  her  with  the  former  deed, 

As  well  as  this.     And  nothing  she  denied. 

But  this  to  me  both  bitter  is  and  sweet, 

For  to  escape  one's-self  from  ill  is  sweet, 

But  to  bring  friends  to  trouble,  this  is  hard 

And  painful.     Yet  my  nature  bids  me  count 

Above  all  these  things  safety  for  myself.  ** 

Creoii.  {To  ANTIGONE.]  Thou,  then — yes,  thou,  who 

bend'st  thy  face  to  earth — 
Confessest  thou,  or  dost  deny  the  deed? 

Antig.  I  own  I  did  it,  and  will  not  deny. 

Crcon.  [To  Guard.]  Go  thou  thy  way,  where'er  thy 

will  may  choose, 

Freed  from  a  weighty  charge.  [Exif  Guard. 

[To  ANTIGONE.]  And  now  for  thee. 

Say  in  few  words,  not  lengthening  out  thy  speech, 
Knew'st  thou  the  edicts  which  forbade  these  things  ? 

Antig.  I  knew  them.    Could  I  fail  ?     Full  clear  were 
they. 

Creon.  And  thou  did'st  dare  to  disobey  these  laws  ? 

Antig.  Yes,   for    it   was    not    Zeus    who    gave    them 
forth,  «• 

Nor  Justice,  dwelling  with  the  Gods  below, 
Who  traced  these  laws  for  all  the  sons  of  men  ; 
Nor  did  I  deem  thy  edicts  strong  enough, 
That  thou,  a  mortal  man,  should'st  over-pass 

i  The  three  libations  were  sometimes  separately  of  wine,  miik. 
and  honey.     Here  the  narrative  implies  that  Antigone  had  but  one 
urn,  but  adhered  to  the  sacred  number  in  her  act  of  pouring. 
156 


ANTIGONE 

The  unwritten  laws  of  God  that  know  not  change. 

They  are  not  of  to-day  nor  yesterday, 

But  live  for  ever,  nor  can  man  assign 

When  first  they  sprang  to  being.     Not  through  fear 

Of  any  man's  resolve  was  I  prepared 

Before  the  Gods  to  bear  the  penalty 

Of  sinning  against  these.     That  I  should  die 

1  knew,  (how  should  I  not  ?)  though  thy  decree 

Had  never  spoken.     And,  before  my  time 

If  I  shall  die,  I  reckon  this  a  gain  ; 

For  whoso  lives,  as  I,  in  many  woes, 

How  can  it  be  but  he  shall  gain  by  death  ? 

And  so  for  me  to  bear  this  doom  of  thine 

Has  nothing  painful.      But,  if  I  had  left 

My  mother's  son  unburieJ  on  his  death, 

In  that  I  should  have  suffered  ;  but  in  this 

I  suffer  not.     And  should  I  seem  to  thee 

To  do  a  foolish  deed,  'tis  simply  this, — 

I  bear  the  charge  of  folly  from  a  fool. 

Chor.  The  maiden's  stubborn  will,  of  stubborn  sire 
The  offspring  shows  itself.      She  knows  not  yet 
To  yield  to  evils. 

Creon.  Know  then,  minds  too  stiff 

Most  often  stumble,  and  the  rigid  steel 
Baked  in  the  furnace,  made  exceeding  hard, 
Thou  see'st  most  often  split  and  shivered  lie ; 
And  I  have  known  the  steeds  of  fiery  mood 
With  a  small  curb  subdued.     It  is  not  meet 
That  one  who  lives  in  bondage  to  his  neighbours 
Should  think  too  proudly.     Wanton  outrage  then 
This  girl  first  learnt,  transgressing  these  my  laws  ; 
But  this,  when  she  has  done  it,  is  again 
A  second  outrage,  over  it  to  boast, 
And  laugh  as  having  done  it.      Surely,  then, 
She  is  the  man,  not  I,  if,  all  unscathed, 
Such  deeds  of  might  are  hers.      But  be  she  child 
'57 


ANTIGONE 

Of  mine  own  sister,  or  of  one  more  near 

Than  all  the  kith  and  kin  of  Household  Zeus, 

She  and  her  sister  shall  not  'scape  a  doom 

Most  foul  and  shameful ;  for  I  charge  her,  too, 

With  having  planned  this  deed  of  sepulture.  ** 

Go  ye  and  call  her.     'Twas  but  now  within 

I  saw  her  raving,  losing  self-command. 

And  still  the  mind  of  those  who  in  the  dark 

Plan  deeds  of  evil  is  the  first  to  fail, 

And  so  convicts  itself  of  secret  guilt. 

But  most  I  hate  when  one  found  out  in  guilt 

Will  seek  to  gloze  and  brave  it  to  the  end. 

Antlg.  And   dost   thou    seek    aught  else   beyond   my 
death? 

Creon.  Nought  else  for  me.     That  gaining,  I  gain  all. 

Antlg.  Why  then  delay  ?     Of  all  thy  words  not  one 
Pleases  me  now,  (and  may  it  never  please  !)  ^ 

And  so  all  mine  must  grate  upon  thine  ears. 
And  yet  how  could  I  higher  glory  gain 
Than  placing  my  true  brother  in  his  tomb  ? 
There  is  not  one  of  these  but  would  confess 
It  pleases  them,  did  fear  not  seal  their  lips. 
The  tyrant's  might  in  much  besides  excels, 
And  it  may  do  and  say  whate'er  it  will. 

Creon.  Of  all  the  race  of  Cadmos  thou  alone 
Look'st  thus  upon  the  deed. 

Antlg.  They  see  it  too 

As  I  do,  but  their  tongue  is  tied  for  thee. 

Creon.  Art   not   ashamed    against    their    thoughts  to 
think  ? 

Antlg.  There  is  nought   base  in   honouring  our  own 
blood. 

Creon.  And  was  he   not  thy  kin  who  fought  against 
him  ? 

Antlg.  Yea,  brother,  of  one  father  and  one  mother. 

Creon.  Why  then  give  honour  which  dishonours  him  f 
158 


ANTIGONE 

Antig.  The  dead  below  will  not  repeat  thy  words. 
Creon.  Yes,  if  thou  give  like  honour  to  the  godless. 
Antig.  It  was  his  brother,  not  his  slave  that  died. 
Creon.  Wasting  this  land,  while  he  died  fighting  for  it. 
Antig.  Yet  Hades  still  craves  equal  rites  for  all. 
Creon.  The  good  craves  not  the  portion  of  the  bad. 6JO 
Antig.  Who  knows  if  this  be  holy  deemed  below  ? 
Creon.  Not  even  when  he  dies  can  foe  be  friend. 
Antig.  My  nature  leads  to  sharing  love,  not  hate. 
Creon.  Go  then  below  ;  and  if  thou  must  have  love, 
Love  them.     While  I  live,  women  shall  not  rule. 

Enter  ISMENE,  led  in  by  Attendants. 

Chor.  And,  lo  !   Ismene  at  the  gate 
Comes  shedding  tears  of  sisterly  regard, 
And  o'er  her  brow  a  gathering  cloud 
Mars  the  deep  roseate  blush, 
Bedewing  her  fair  cheek. 

Creon.  [To    ISMENE.]  And    thou   who,    creeping  as  a 

viper  creeps, 

Did'st  drain  my  life  in  secret,  and  I  knew  not 
That  I  was  rearing  two  accursed  ones, 
Subverters  of  my  throne, — come,  tell  me,  then, 
Wilt  thou  confess  thou  took'st  thy  part  in  this, 
Or  wilt  thou  swear  thou  did'st  not  know  of  it  ? 

*Ism.  I  did  the  deed,  if  she  did,  go  with  her, 
Yes,  share  the  guilt,  and  bear  an  equal  blame. 

Antig.  Nay,  justice  will  not  suffer  this,  for  thou 
Did'st  not  consent,  nor  did  I  let  thee  join. 

Ism.  Nay,  in  thy  troubles,  I  am  not  ashamed 
In  the  same  boat  with  thee  to  share  thy  fate.  "° 

Antig.  Who  did  it,  Hades  knows,  and  those  below  : 
I  do  not  love  a  friend  who  loves  in  words. 

1m.  Do  not,  my  sister,  put  me  to  such  shame, 
As  not  to  let  me  join  in  death  with  thee, 
'59 


ANTIGONE 

And  so  to  pay  due  reverence  to  the  dead. 

Antig.  Share  not  my  death,  nor  make  thine  own  this 

deed 
Thou  had'st  no  hand  in.     My  death  shall  suffice. 

Ism.  What  life  to  me  is  sweet,  bereaved  of  thee  ? 

Antig.  Ask   Creon  there,  since    thou   o'er    him    dost 
watch. 

Ism.  Why  vex  me  so,  in  nothing  bettered  by  it  ? 

Antig.  'Tis  pain  indeed,  to  laugh  my  laugh  at  thee. 

Ism.  But  now,  at  least,  how  may  I  profit  thee  ? 

Antig.  Save  thou  thyself.     I  grudge  not  thy  escape. 

Ism.  Ah,  woe  is  me  !  and  must  I  miss  thy  fate  ? 

Antig.  Thou  mad'st  thy  choice  to  live,  and  I  to  die. 

Ism.  'Twas  not  because  I  failed  to  speak  my  thoughts. 

Antig.  To  these  did'st  thou,  to  those  did  I  seem  wise. 

Ism.  And  yet  the  offence  is  equal  in  us  both. 

Antig.  Take  courage.    Thou  dost  live.     My  soul  long 

since 
Hath  died  to  render  service  to  the  dead.  ™ 

Creon.  Of  these  two  girls,  the  one  goes  mad  but  now, 
The  other  ever  since  her  life  began. 

Ism.  E'en  so,  O  king  ;  no  mind  that  ever  lived 
Stands  firm  in  evil  days,  but  goes  astray. 

Creon.  Thine  did,  when,  with  the  vile,  vile  deeds  thou 
choosest. 

Ism.  How  could  I  live  without  her  presence  here  ? 

Creon.  Speak  not  of  presence.     She  is  here  no  more. 

Lm.  And  wilt  thou  slay  thy  son's  betrothed  bride  ? 

Creon.  Full    many   a    field    there   is  which    he    may 
plough. 

Ism.  None  like  that  plighted  troth  'twixt  him  and  her. 

Creon.  Wives  that  are  vile  I  love  not  for  my  sons. 

Ism.  Ah,  dearest  Haemon,  how  thy  father  shames  thee  ! 

Creon.  Thou  with  that  marriage  dost  but  vex  my  soul. 

Chor.  And  wilt  thou  rob  thy  son  of  her  he  loved  ? 

Creon.  'Tis  Death,  not  I,  shall  break  the  marriage  off. 
160 


ANTIGONE 

Chor,  Her  doom  is  fixed,  it  seems,  then.     She   must 

die. 

Creon.  Fixed,  yes,  by  me  and  thee.     No  more  delay, 
Lead  them  within,  ye  slaves.     These  must  be  kept 
Henceforth  as  women,  suffered  not  to  roam  ; 
For  even  boldest  natures  shrink  in  fear  M0 

When  they  see  Hades  overshadowing  life. 

\_Exeunt  Guards  with  ANTIGONE  and  ISMENE. 

STROPHE  I 

Char.  Blessed  are  those  whose  life  no  woe  doth  taste  1 

For  unto  those  whose  house 
The  Gods  have  shaken,  nothing  fails  of  curse 
Or  woe,  that  creeps  to  generations  far. 

E'en  thus  a  wave,  (when  spreads, 

With  blasts  from  Thrakian  coasts, 

The  darkness  of  the  deep,) 

Up  from  the  sea's  abyss 
Hither  and  thither  rolls  the  black  sand  on, 

And  every  jutting  peak, 

Swept  by  the  storm-wind's  strength, 

Lashed  by  the  fierce  wild  waves, 
Re-echoes  with  the  far-resounding  roar. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
I  see  the  woes  that  smote,  in  ancient  days, 

*The  seed  of  Labdacos, 
*Who  perished  long  ago,  with  grief  on  griel 
Still  falling,  nor  does  this  age  rescue  that  ; 

Some  God  still  smites  it  down, 

Nor  have  they  any  end  : 

For  now  there  rose  a  gleam, 

Over  the  last  weak  shoots, 
That  sprang  from  out  the  race  of  QEdipus  ;  ** 

Yet  this  the  blood-stained  scythe 

Of  those  that  reign  below 
«  161  b 


ANTIGONE 

Cuts  off  relentlessly, 
And  maddened  speech,  and  frenzied  rage  of  heart. 

STROPHE  II 
Thy  power,  O  Zeus,  what  haughtiness  of  man, 

Yea,  what  can  hold  in  check  ? 
Which  neither  sleep,  that  maketh  all  things  old, 
Nor  the  long  months  of  Gods  that  never  fail, 

Can  for  a  moment  seize. 

But  still  as  Lord  supreme, 

Waxing  not  old  with  time, 
Thou  dwellest  in  Thy  sheen  of  radiancy 

On  far  Olympos'  height. 
Through  future  near  or  far  as  through  the  past, 

One  law  holds  ever  good, 
Nought  comes  to  life  of  man  unscathed  throughout  by 


ANTISTROPHE  II 
For  hope  to  many  comes  in  wanderings  wild, 

A  solace  and  support  ; 
To  many  as  a  cheat  of  fond  desires, 
And  creepeth  still  on  him  who  knows  it  not, 

Until  he  burn  his  foot 

Within  the  scorching  flame. 

Full  well  spake  one  of  old, 
That  evil  ever  seems  to  be  as  good 

To  those  whose  thoughts  of  heart 

God  leadeth  unto  woe, 
And  without  woe,  he  spends  but  shortest  space  of  time. 

And  here  comes  Haemon,  last  of  all  thy  sons  : 

Comes  he  bewailing  sore 
The  fate  of  her  who  should  have  been  his  bride. 

The  maid  Antigone, 

Grieving  o'er  vanished  joys  ?  w 


ANTIGONE 

Enter  HJEMON. 
Creon.  Soon  we  shall  know  much  more  than  seers  can 

Surely  thou  dost  not  come,  my  son,  to  rage 
Against  thy  father,  hearing  his  decree, 
Fixing  her  doom  who  should  have  been  thy  bride  ; 
Or  dost  thou  love  us  still,  whate'er  we  do  ? 

Herman.  My  father,  I  am  thine  ;  and  thou  dost  guide 
With  thy  wise  counsels,  which  I  gladly  follow. 
No  marriage  weighs  one  moment  in  the  scales 
With  me,  while  thou  dost  guide  my  steps  aright. 

Creon.  This  thought,  my  son,  should  dwell  within 

thy  breast, 

That  all  things  stand  below  a  father's  will  ; 
For  so  men  pray  that  they  may  rear  and  keep 
Obedient  offspring  by  their  hearths  and  homes, 
That  they  may  both  requite  their  father's  foes, 
And  pay  with  him  like  honours  to  his  friend. 
But  he  who  reareth  sons  that  profit  not, 
What  could  one  say  of  him  but  this,  that  he 
Breeds  his  own  sorrow,  laughter  to  his  foes  ? 
*Lose  not  thy  reason,  then,  my  son,  o'ercome 
By  pleasure,  for  a  woman's  sake,  but  know, 
A  cold  embrace  is  that  to  have  at  home 
A  worthless  wife,  the  partner  of  thy  bed. 
What  ulcerous  sore  is  worse  than  one  we  love 
Who  proves  all  worthless  ?     No  !  with  loathing  scorn, 
As  hateful  to  thee,  let  that  girl  go  wed 
A  spouse  in  Hades.     Taken  in  the  act 
I  found  her,  her  alone  of  all  the  State, 
Rebellious.     And  I  will  not  make  myself 
False  to  the  State.     She  dies.     So  let  her  call 
On  Zeus,  the  lord  of  kindred.     If  I  rear 
Of  mine  own  stock  things  foul  and  orderless, 
I  shall  have  work  enough  witb  those  without. 
163 


ANTIGONE 

For  he  who  in  the  life  of  home  is  good 

Will  still  be  seen  as  just  in  things  of  state  ; 

I  should  be  sure  that  man  would  govern  well, 

And  know  well  to  be  governed,  and  would  stand 

In  war's  wild  storm,  on  his  appointed  post, 

A  just  and  good  defender.     But  the  man 

Who  by  transgressions  violates  the  laws, 

Or  thinks  to  bid  the  powers  that  be  obey, 

He  must  not  hope  to  gather  praise  from  me. 

No !  we  must  follow  whom  the  State  appoints 

In  things  or  just  and  trivial,  or,  may  be, 

The  opposite  of  these.     For  anarchy 

Is  our  worst  evil,  brings  our  commonwealth 

To  utter  ruin,  lays  whole  houses  low, 

In  battle  strife  hurls  firm  allies  in  flight ; 

But  they  who  yield  to  guidance, — these  shall  find 

Obedience  saves  most  men.     Thus  help  should  come 

To  what  our  rulers  order  ;  least  of  all 

Ought  men  to  bow  before  a  woman's  sway. 

Far  better,  if  it  must  be  so,  to  fall 

By  a  man's  hand,  than  thus  to  bear  reproach, 

By  woman  conquered.  M 

Ckor.  Unto  us,  O  king, 

Unless  our  years  have  robbed  us  of  our  wit, 
Thou  seemest  to  say  wisely  what  thou  say'st. 

Ham,  The  Gods,  my  father,  have  bestowed  on  man 
His  reason,  noblest  of  all  earthly  gifts  ; 
And  that  thou  speakest  wrongly  these  thy  words 
I  cannot  say,  (God  grant  I  ne'er  know  how 
Such  things  to  utter !)  yet  another's  thoughts 
May  have  some  reason.     'Tis  my  lot  to  watch 
What  each  man  says  or  does,  or  blames  in  thee, 
For  dread  thy  face  to  one  of  low  estate, 
Who  speaks  what  thou  wilt  not  rejoice  to  hear. 
But  I  can  hear  the  things  in  darkness  said, 
How  the  whole  city  wails  this  maiden's  fate, 
164 


ANTIGONE 

As  one  "who  of  all  women  most  unjustly, 

For  noblest  deed  must  die  the  foulest  death, 

Who  her  own  brother,  fallen  in  the  fray, 

Would  neither  leave  unburied,  nor  expose 

To  carrion  dogs,  or  any  bird  of  prey, 

May  she  not  claim  the  meed  of  golden  praise  ? " 

Such  is  the  whisper  that  in  secret  runs 

All  darkling.     And  for  me,  my  father,  nought 

Is  dearer  than  thy  welfare.     What  can  be 

A  nobler  prize  of  honour  for  the  son 

Than  a  sire's  glory,  or  for  sire  than  son's  ? 

I  pray  thee,  then,  wear  not  one  mood  alone, 

That  what  thou  say'st  is  right,  and  nought  but  that  ; 

For  he  who  thinks  that  he  alone  is  wise, 

His  mind  and  speech  above  what  others  have, 

Such  men  when  searched  are  mostly  empty  found. 

But  for  a  man  to  learn,  though  he  be  wise, 

Yea  to  learn  much,  and  know  the  time  to  yield, 

Brings  no  disgrace.     When  winter  floods  the  streams, 

Thou  see'st  the  trees  that  bend  before  the  storm, 

Save  their  last  twigs,  while  those  that  will  not  yield 

Perish  with  root  and  branch.     And  when  one  hauls 

Too  tight  the  mainsail  rope,  and  will  not  slack, 

He  has  to  end  his  voyage  with  deck  o'erturned. 

Do  thou  then  yield  ;  permit  thyself  to  change. 

Young  though  I  be,  if  any  prudent  thought 

Be  with  me,  I  at  least  will  dare  assert 

The  higher  worth  of  one,  who,  come  what  will, 

Is  full  of  knowledge.     If  that  may  not  be, 

(For  nature  is  not  wont  to  take  that  bent,) 

"Tis  good  to  learn  from  those  who  counsel  well. 

Chor.  My  king!  'tis  fit  that  thou  should'st  learn  from 

him, 

If  he  speaks  words  in  season  ;  and,  in  turn, 
That  thou  (To  H.SMON)  should'st  learn  of  him,  for  both 
speak  well. 

165 


ANTIGONE 

Creon.  Shall  we  at  our  age  stoop  to  learn  from  him, 
Young  as  he  is,  the  lesson  to  be  wise  ? 

Ham.  Learn  nought  thou  should'st  not  learn.     And 

if  I  'm  young, 

Thou  should'st  my  deeds  and  not  my  years  consider. 
Creon.  Is  that  thy  deed  to  reverence  rebel  souls  ?     m 
Heem.  I  would  bid  none  waste  reverence  on  the  base. 
Creon.  Has  not  that  girl  been  seized  wirh  that  disease  f 
Ham.  The  men  of  Thebes  with  one  accord  say,  No. 
Creon.  And  will  my  subjects  tell  us  how  to  rule  ? 
Ham.  Dost  thou  not  see  thou  speakest  like  a  boy  ? 
*Creon.   Must  I  then  rule  for  others  than  myself? 
Ham.  That  is  no  State  which  hangs  on  one  man's  will. 
Creon.  Is  not  the  State  deemed  his  who  governs  it  ? 
Ham.  Brave  rule  !    Alone,  and  o'er  an  empty  land  ! 
Creon.  This  boy,  it  seems,  will  be  his  bride's  ally.   74° 
Ham.  If  thou  art  she,  for  thou  art  all  my  care. 
Creon.  Basest  of  base,  against  thy  father  pleading  ! 
Ham.  Yea,  for  I  see  thee  sin  a  grievous  sin. 
Creon.  And  do  I  sin  revering  mine  own  sway  ? 
Ham.  Thou  show'st  no  reverence,  trampling  on  God's 

laws. 

Creon.  O  guilty  soul,  by  woman's  craft  beguiled  ! 
Ham.  Thou  wilt  not  find  me  slave  unto  the  base. 
Creon.  Thy  every  word  is  still  on  her  behalf. 
Ham.   Yea,  and    on    thine    and    mine,  and    Theirs 

below. 
Creon.  Be  sure  thou  shalt    not   wed    her  while  she 

lives.  75° 

Ham.  Then  she  must  die,  and,  dying,  others  slay. 
Creon.  And  dost    thou    dare    to    come    to   me  with 

threats  ? 

Ham.  Is  it  a  threat  against  vain  thoughts  to  speak  ? 
Creon.  Thou  to  thy  cost  shalt  teach  me  wisdom's  ways, 
Thyself  in  wisdom  wanting. 

Ham.  1  would  say 

»66 


ANTIGONE 

Thou  wast  unwise,  if  thou  wcrt  not  my  father. 

Creon.  Thou  woman's  slave,  I  say,  prate  on  no  more. 

H<£m.  Wilt  thou  then  speak,    and,    speaking,    listen 
not  ? 

Creon,  Nay,  by  Olympos  !     Thou  shalt  not  go  free 
To  flout  me  with  reproaches.     Lead  her  out 
Whom  my  soul  hates,  that  she  may  die  forthwith          7ao 
Before  mine  eyes,  and  near  her  bridegroom  here. 

Ham.  No  !  Think  it  not !     Near  me  she   shall  not 

die, 

And  thou  shalt  never  see  my  face  alive, 
That  thou  may'st  storm  at  those  who  like  to  yield. 

[Exit. 

C/>or.  The  man  has  gone,  O  king,  in  hasty  mood. 
A  mind  distressed  in  youth  is  hard  to  bear. 

Creon.  Let  him  do  what  he  will,  and  bear  himself 
As  more  than  man,  he  shall  not  save  those  girls. 

Chor.  What !     Dost  thou  mean   to  slay  them  both 
alike  ?  "° 

Creon.  Not    her   who   touched    it   not ;    there  thou 
say'st  well. 

Chor.  What    form  of  death   mean'st  thou  to  slay  her 
with  ? 

Creon.   Leading  her  on  to  where  the  desert  path 
Is  loneliest,  there  alive,  in  rocky  cave 
Will  I  immure  her,  just  so  much  of  food 
Before  her  set  as  may  avert  pollution,1 
And  save  the  city  from  the  guilt  of  blood  ; 
And  there,  invoking  Hades,  whom  alone 
Of  all  the  Gods  she  worships,  she,  perchance, 
Shall  gain  escape  from  death,  or  then  shall  know  [78° 

That  Hades-worship  is  but  labour  lost.  [Exit. 

1  Creon 's  words  point  to  the  popular  feeling  that  if  some  food, 

however  little,  were  given  to  those  thus  buried  alive,  the  guilt  of 

starving  them  to  death  was  averted.     The  same  rule  was  observed 

at  Rome  in  the  punishment  of  the  Vestal  Virgins, 

167 


ANTIGONE 


STROFHS 


Ckor.  O  Love,  in  every  battle  victor  owned  ; 

*Love,  rushing  on  thy  prey, 
Now  on  a  maiden's  soft  and  blooming  cheek, 

In  secret  ambush  hid  ; 
Now  o'er  the  broad  sea  wandering  at  will, 

And  now  in  shepherd's  folds  ; 
Of  all  the  Undying  Ones  none  'scape  from  thee, 

Nor  yet  of  mortal  men 
Whose  lives  are  measured  as  a  fleeting  day  ; 
And  who  has  thee  is  frenzied  in  his  soul. 

ANTISTROPHE 
Thou  makest  vile  the  purpose  of  the  just, 

To  his  own  fatal  harm  ; 
Thou  hast  stirred  up  this  fierce  and  deadly  strife, 

Of  men  of  nearest  kin  ; 
The  charm  of  eyes  of  bride  beloved  and  fair 

Is  crowned  with  victory, 
And  dwells  on  high  among  the  powers  that  rule, 

Equal  with  holiest  laws  ; 
For  Aphrodite,  she  whom  none  subdues, 
Sports  in  her  might  and  majesty  divine, 

I,  even  I,  am  borne 

Beyond  the  appointed  laws  ; 

I  look  on  this,  and  cannot  stay 

The  fountain  of  my  tears. 

For,  lo  !   I  see  her,  see  Antigone 

Wend  her  sad,  lonely  way 
To  that  bride-chamber  where  we  all  must  lie. 
Antig.  Behold,  O  men  of  this  my  fatherland, 

I  wend  my  last  lone  way, 
Seeing  the  last  sunbeam,  now  and  nevermore  ; 

He  leads  me  yet  alive, 

168 


ANTIGONE 

Hades  that  welcomes  all, 

To  Acheron's  dark  shore, 

With  neither  part  nor  lot 

In  marriage  festival, 

Nor  hath  the  marriage  hymn 

Been  sung  for  me  as  bride, 
But  I  shall  be  the  bride  of  Acheron. 

Chor.  And  hast  thou  not  all  honour,  worthiest  praise, 
Who  goest  to  the  home  that  hides  the  dead, 
Not  smitten  by  the  sickness  that  decays, 

Nor  by  the  sharp  sword's  meed, 
But  of  thine  own  free  will,  in  fullest  life, 

Alone  of  mortals,  thus 

To  Hades  tak'st  thy  way  ? 
Antig.  I  heard  of  old  her  pitiable  end,1 

On  Sipylos'  high  crag, 
The  Phrygian  stranger  from  a  far  land  come, 

Whom  Tantalos  begat  ; 

Whom  growth  of  rugged  rock, 

Clinging  as  ivy  clings, 

Subdued,  and  made  its  own  : 

And  now,  so  runs  the  tale, 

There,  as  she  melts  in  shower, 

The  snow  abideth  aye, 
And  still  bedews  yon  cliffs  that  lie  below 

Those  brows  that  ever  weep. 
With  fate  like  hers  God  brings  me  to  my  rest. 

Chor.  A  Goddess  she,  and  of  the  high  Gods  born  ;* 
And  we  are  mortals,  born  of  mortal  seed. 
*And  lo !  for  one  who  liveth  but  to  die, 

1  The  thoughts  of  Antigone  go  back  to  the  story  of  one  of  her 
own  race,  whose  fate  was  in  seme  measure  like  her  own.  Niobe, 
daughter  of  Tantalos,  became  the  wife  of  Amphion,  and  then,  boast 
ing  of  her  children  as  more  and  more  goodly  than  those  of  Leto, 
provoked  the  wrath  of  Apollo  and  Artemis,  who  slew  her  children. 
She,  going  to  Sipylos,  in  Phrygia,  was  there  turned  into  a  rock. 

S  Tantalos,  the  father  of  Ni'ob*.  was  himself  a  son  of  Zeus. 


ANTIGONE 

*To  gain  like  doom  with  those  of  heavenly  race, 

Is  great  and  strange  to  hear. 

Antig.  Ye  mock  me  then.     Alas !     Why  wait  ye  not, 
By  all  our  fathers'  Gods,  I  ask  of  you, 

Till  I  have  passed  away, 

But  flout  me  while  I  live  ? 

O  city  that  I  love, 

O  men  that  claim  as  yours 

That  city  stored  with  wealth, 

0  Dirke,  fairest  fount, 

0  grove  of  Thebes,  that  boasts  her  chariot  host, 

1  bid  you  witness  all, 

How,  with  no  friends  to  weep, 
By  what  stern  laws  condemned, 

1  go  to  that  strong  dungeon  of  the  tomb, 

For  burial  strange,  ah  me  ! 
Nor  dwelling  with  the  living,  nor  the  dead. 

Chor.  Forward  and  forward  still  to  farthest  verge 

Of  daring  hast  thou  gone, 
And  now,  O  child,  thou  hast  rushed  violently 

Where  Right  erects  her  throne  ; 
Surely  thou  payest  to  the  uttermost 

Thy  father's  debt  of  guilt. 
Antig.  Ah  !   thou  hast  touched  the  quick  of  all  my 

grief, 
The  thrice-told  tale  of  all  my  father's  woe. 

The  fate  which  dogs  us  all, 
The  old  Labdakid  race  of  ancient  fame. 

Woe  for  the  curses  dire 

Of  that  denied  bed, 

With  foulest  incest  stained, 

My  mother's  with  my  sire, 
Whence  I  myself  have  sprung,  most  miserable. 

And  now,  I  go  to  them, 

To  sojourn  in  the  grave, 

Accursed,  and  unwed  ; 


ANTIGONE 

Ah,  brother,  thou  did'st  find 

Thy  marriage  fraught  with  ill, 
And  thou,  though  dead,  hast  smitten  down  my  life. 
Chor,  Acts  reverent  and  devout 

May  claim  devotion's  name, 
But  power,  in  one  to  whom  power  comes  as  trust, 

May  never  be  defied  ; 

And  thee,  thy  stubborn  mood, 

Self-chosen,  layeth  low. 
Antig.  Unwept,  without  a  friend, 

Unwed,  and  whelmed  in  woe, 
I  journey  on  this  road  that  open  lies. 
No  more  shall  it  be  mine  (O  misery!)  *• 

To  look  upon  yon  daylight's  holy  eye ; 

And  yet,  of  all  my  friends, 

Not  one  bewails  my  fate, 

No  kindly  tear  is  shed. 

Enter  CREON, 

Creon.  And  know  ye  not,  if  men  have  leave  to  speak 
Their  songs  and  wailings  thus  to  stave  off  death, 
That  they  will  never  stop?     Lead,  lead  her  on, 
Without  delay,  and,  as  I  said,  immure 
In  yon  cavernous  tomb,  and  then  depart. 
Leave  her  to  choose,  or  drear  and  lonely  death, 
Or,  living,  in  the  tomb  to  find  her  home. 
Our  hands  are  clean  in  all  that  touches  her; 
But  she  no  more  shall  dwell  on  earth  with  us.  *° 

Antig.    [Turning  towards  the  cavern.]    O    tomb,   my 

bridal  chamber,  vaulted  home. 
Guarded  right  well  for  ever,  where  I  go 
To  join  mine  own,  of  whom  the  greater  part 
Among  the  dead  doth  Persephassa  hold ; 
And  I,  of  all  the  last  and  saddest,  wend 
My  way  below,  life's  little  span  unfilled. 
171 


ANTIGONE 

And  yet  I  go,  and  feed  myself  with  hopes 
That  I  shall  meet  them,  by  my  father  loved, 
Dear  to  my  mother,  well-beloved  of  thee, 
Thou  darling  brother:  I,  with  these  my  hands, 
Washed  each   dear  corpse,   arrayed    you,    poured   liba- 
tions, 

In  rites  of  burial ;  and  in  care  for  thee,  "^ 

Thy  body,  Polyneikes,  honouring, 
I  gain  this  recompense.     [And  yet  in  sight 
Of  all  that  rightly  judge  the  deed  was  good  ; 
I  had  not  done  it  had  I  come  to  be 
A  mother  with  her  children, — had  not  dared, 
Though  'twere  a  husband  dead  that  mouldered  there, 
Against  my  country's  will  to  bear  this  toil. 
And  am  I  asked  what  law  constrained  me  thus  ? 
I  answer,  had  I  lost  a  husband  dear, 
I  might  have  had  another ;  other  sons  'w 

By  other  spouse,  if  one  were  lost  to  me ; 
But  when  my  father  and  my  mother  sleep 
In  Hades,  then  no  brother  more  can  come. 
And  therefore,  giving  thee  the  foremost  place, 
I  seemed  in  Creon's  eyes,  O  brother  dear, 
To  sin  in  boldest  daring.     Therefore  now 
He  leads  me,  having  taken  me  by  force, 
Cut  off  from  marriage  bed  and  marriage  song, 
Untasting  wife's  true  joy,  or  mother's  bliss, 
With  infant  at  her  breast,  but  all  forlorn, 
Bereaved  of  friends,  in  utter  misery, 
Alive,  I  tread  the  chambers  of  the  dead.]  ** 

What  law  of  Heaven  have  1  transgressed  against? 
What  use  for  me,  ill-starred  one,  still  to  look 
To  any  God  for  succour,  or  to  call 
On  any  friend  for  aid?     For  holiest  deed 
I  bear  this  charge  of  rank  unholiness. 
If  acts  like  these  the  Gods  on  high  approve, 
We,  taught  by  pain,  shall  own  that  we  have  sinned ; 
17* 


ANTIGONE 

But  if  these  sin,  [Looting  at  CREON,]  I  pray  they  suffer 

not 

Worse  evils  than  the  wrongs  they  do  to  me. 
Chor.  Still  do  the  same  wild  blasts 

Vex  her  who  standeth  there.  •* 

Creon.  Therefore  shall  these  her  guards 

Weep  sore  for  this  delay. 
Chor.  Ah  me  !  this  word  of  thine 

Tells  of  death  drawing  nigh. 
Creon.  I  cannot  bid  thee  hope 

For  other  end  than  this. 
Antig.  O  citadel  of  Thebes,  my  native  land, 
Ye  Gods  of  ancient  days, 
I  go,  and  linger  not. 

Behold  me,  O  ye  senators  of  Thebes,  •*" 

The  last,  lone  scion  of  the  kingly  race, 
What  things  I  suffer,  and  from  whom  they  come, 
Revering  still  the  laws  of  reverence. 

\Guards  lead  ANTIGONE  away. 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  So  did  the  form  of  Danae  bear  of  old,1 

In  brazen  palace  hid, 

To  lose  the  light  of  heaven, 
And  in  her  tomb-like  chamber  was  enclosed  : 
Yet  she,  O  child,  was  noble  in  her  race, 
And  well  she  stored  the  golden  shower  of  Zeus. 
But  great  and  dread  the  might  of  Destiny ; 

Nor  kingly  wealth,  nor  war, 

Nor  tower,  nor  dark-hulled  ships 

Beaten  by  waves,  escape. 

1  As  Antigone  had  gone  back  to  the  parallelisms  of  the  past,  so 
does  the  Chorus,  finding  in  the  first,  at  least,  of  the  three  examples 
that  follow  some  topic  of  consolation.  Danae,  though  shut  up  by 
her  father  Acrisios,  received  the  golden  shower  of  Zeus,  and  became 
the  mother  of  the  hero  Perseus. 


ANTIGONE 


ANTISTROPHE 


So  too  was  shut,  enclosed  in  dungeon  cave, 

Bitter  and  fierce  in  mood, 

The  son  of  Dryas,1  king 
Of  yon  Edonian  tribes,  for  vile  reproach, 
By  Dionysos'  hands,  and  so  his  strength 
And  soul  o'ermad  wastes  drop  by  drop  away, 
And  so  he  learnt  that  he,  against  the  God, 

Spake  his  mad  words  of  scorn  ; 

For  he  the  Maenad  throng 

And  bright  fire  fain  had  stopped, 

And  roused  the  Muses'  wrath. 

STROPHE  II 

And  by  the  double  sea*  of  those  Dark  Rocks 

Are  shores  of  Bosporos, 
And  Thrakian  isle,  as  Salmydessos  known, 

Where  Ares,  whom  they  serve, 

God  of  the  region  round, 

Saw  the  dire,  blinding  wound, 

That  smote  the  twin-born  sons 
Of  Phineus  by  relentless  step-dame's  hand, — 
*Dark  wound,  on  dark-doomed  eyes, 

1  The  son  of  Dryas  was  Lycurgos,  who  appears  in  the  Iliad, 
vi.  130,  as  having,  like  Pentheus,  opposed  the  worship  of  Dionysos, 
and  so  fallen  under  the  wrath  of  Zeus,  who  deprived  him  of  sight, 
and  entombed  him  in  a  cavern.  The  Muses  are  here  mentioned  as 
the  companions  and  nurses  of  Dionysos. 

3  The  last  instance  was  taken  from  the  early  legends  of  Attica. 
Boreas,  it  was  said,  carried  off  Oreithyia,  daughter  of  Erechtheus, 
and  by  her  had  two  sons  and  a  daughter,  Cleopatra.  The  latter 
became  the  wife  of  Phineus,  king  of  Salmydessos,  and  bore  two  sons 
te  him,  Plexippos  and  Pandion.  Phineus  then  divorced  her, 
married  another  wife,  Idaea,  and  then,  at  her  instigation,  deprived 
his  two  sons  by  the  former  marriage  of  their  sight,  and  confined 
Cleopatra  in  a  dungeon.  She  too,  like  Uanae  and  Niobe,  was  "a 
child  of  Gods,"  and  the  Erechtheion  on  the  Acropolis  was  con- 
secrated to  the  joint  worship  of  her  grandfather  and  of  Poseidon 


ANTIGONE 

*Not  with  the  stroke  of  sword, 
But  blood-stained  hands,  and  point  of  spindle  sharp. 

ANTISTROPHK  II 

And  they  in  misery,  miserable  fate, 

Wasting  away,  wept  sore, 
Born  of  a  mother  wedded  with  a  curse, 

And  she  who  claimed  descent 

From  men  of  ancient  fame, 

The  old  Erechtheid  race, 

Amid  her  father's  winds, 
Daughter  of  Boreas,  in  far  distant  caves 

Was  reared,  a  child  of  Gods, 

Swift  moving  as  the  steed 

O'er  lofty  crag,  and  yet 
The  ever-living  Fates  bore  hard  on  her. 

Enter  TEIRESIAS,  guided  by  a  Boy. 

Teir.  Princes  of  Thebes,  we  come  as  travellers  joined, 
One  seeing  for  both,  for  still  the  blind  must  use 
A  guide's  assistance  to  direct  his  steps. 

Creon.  And  what  new  thing,  Teiresias,   brings   thee 

here  ? 

Teir.  I'll  tell  thee,  and  do  thou  the  seer  obey. 
Creon.  Of  old  I  was  not  wont  to  slight  thy  thoughts. 
Teir.  So  did'st  thou  steer  our  city's  course  full  well. 
Creon.  I  bear  my  witness  from  good  profit  gained. 
Teir.  Know,  then,  thou  walk'st  on  fortune's  razor-edge. 
Creon.  What  means   this  I     How  I   shudder   at    thy 

speech ! 
Teir.  Soon  shalt  thou  know,  as  thou  dost  hear  the 

signs 

Of  my  dread  art.     For  sitting,  as  of  old, 
Upon  my  ancient  seat  of  augury,  100° 

Where  every  bird  finds  haven,  lo  !  I  hear 
'75 


ANTIGONE 

Strange  cry  of  winged  creatures,  shouting  shrill, 
With  inarticulate  passion,  and  I  knew 
That  they  were  tearing  each  the  other's  flesh 
With  bloody  talons,  for  their  whirring  wings 
Made  that  quite  clear  :  and  straightway  I,  in  fear. 
Made  trial  of  the  sacrifice  that  lay 
On  fiery  altar.     And  Hephsestos'  flame 
Shone  not  from  out  the  offering  ;  but  there  oozed 
Upon  the  ashes,  trickling  from  the  bones, 
A  moisture,  and  it  smouldered,  and  it  spat, 
And,  lo  !  the  gall  was  scattered  to  the  air, 
And  forth  from  out  the  fat  that  wrapped  them  round 
The  thigh-bones  fell.     Such  omens  of  decay 
From  holy  sacrifice  I  learnt  from  him, 
This  boy,  who  now  stands  here,  for  he  is  still 
A  guide  to  me,  as  I  to  others  am. 
And  all  this  evil  falls  upon  the  State, 
From  out  thy  counsels  ;  for  our  altars  all, 
Our  sacred  hearths  are  full  of  food  for  dogs 
And  birds  unclean,  the  flesh  of  that  poor  wretch 
Who  fell,  the  son  of  CEdipus.     And  so 
The  Gods  no  more  hear  prayers  of  sacrifice, 
Nor  own  the  flame  that  burns  the  victim's  limbs ; 
Nor  do  the  birds  give  cry  of  omen  good, 
But  feed  on  carrion  of  a  slaughtered  corpse. 
Think  thou  on  this,  my  son  :  to  err,  indeed, 
Is  common  unto  all,  but  having  erred, 
He  is  no  longer  reckless  or  unblest, 
Who,  having  fallen  into  evil,  seeks 
For  healing,  nor  continues  still  unmoved. 
Self-will  must  bear  the  charge  of  stubbornness  : 
Yield  to  the  dead,  and  outrage  not  a  corpse. 
What  prowess  is  it  fallen  foes  to  slay  ? 
Good  counsel  give  I,  planning  good  for  thee, 
And  of  all  joys  the  sweetest  is  to  learn 
From  one  who  speaketh  well,  should  that  bring  gain. 
176 


ANTIGONE 

Creon.  Old  man,  as  archers  aiming  at  their  mark, 
So  ye  shoot  forth  your  venomed  darts  at  me  ; 
I  know  your  augur's  tricks,  and  by  your  tribe 
Long  since  am  tricked  and  sold.     Yes,  gain  your  gains, 
Get  Sardis'  amber  metal,  Indian  gold  ; l 
That  corpse  ye  shall  not  hide  in  any  tomb. 
Not  though  the  eagles,  birds  of  Zeus,  should  bear        1WO 
Their  carrion  morsels  to  the  throne  of  God, 
Not  even  fearing  this  pollution  dire, 
Will  I  consent  to  burial.     Well  I  know 
That  man  is  powerless  to  pollute  the  Gods. 
But  many  fall,  Teiresias,  dotard  old, 
A  shameful  fall,  who  gloze  their  shameful  words 
For  lucre's  sake,  with  surface  show  of  good. 

Teir.  Ah  me  !  Does  no  man  know,  does  none  con- 
sider .  .   .  ? 

Creon.  Consider  what  ?     What  trite  poor  saw  comes 
now  ? 

Teir.  How  far  good  counsel  is  of  all  things  best  ?     I06° 

Creon.  So  far,  I  trow,  as  folly  is  worst  ill. 

Teir.  Of  that  disease  thy  soul,  alas  !   is  full. 

Creon.  I  will  not  meet  a  seer  with  evil  words. 

Teir.  Thou  dost  so,  saying  I  divine  with  lies. 

Creon.  The  race  of  seers  is  ever  fond  of  gold. 

Teir.  And  that  of  tyrants  still  loves  lucre  foul. 

Creon.  Dost   know   thou  speak'st  thy  words  of  those 
that  rule  ? 

Teir.  I  know.     Through  me  thou  rul'st  a  city  saved. 

Creon.  Wise    seer   art    thou,  yet  given   o'ermuch  to 
wrong. 

Teir.  Thou  'It  stir   me  to  speak  out   my  soul's  dread 
secrets.  106° 

Creon.  Out  with  them  ;  only  speak  them  not  for  gain. 

1  The  precise  nature  of  the  electron  of  the  Greek  is  doubtful ;  but 
Sardis  leads  us  to  think  of  the  gold  dust  of  Pactolos,  and  the  name 
of  some  characteristic  distinguishing  it  from  other  gold. 

1  177  M 


ANTIGONE 

Tfir.  So  is  't,  I  trow,  in  all  that  touches  thee. 

Creon.  Know  that  thou  shalt  not  bargain  with  my  will. 

Teir,  Know,  then,  and  know  it  well,  that  thou  shalt 

see 

Not  many  winding  circuits  of  the  sun, 
Before  thou  giv'st  as  quittance  for  the  dead, 
A  corpse  by  thee  begotten  ;  for  that  thou 
Hast  to  the  ground  cast  one  that  walked  on  earth, 
And  foully  placed  within  a  sepulchre 
A  living  soul ;  and  now  thou  keep'st  from  them, 
The  Gods  below,  the  corpse  of  one  unblest, 
Unwept,  unhallowed,  and  in  these  things  thou 
Can'st  claim  no  part,  nor  yet  the  Gods  above  ; 
But  they  by  thee  are  outraged  ;  and  they  wait, 
The  sure  though  slow  avengers  of  the  grave, 
The  dread  Erinnyes  of  the  mighty  Gods, 
For  thee  in  these  same  evils  to  be  snared. 
Search  well  if  I  say  this  as  one  who  sells 
His  soul  for  money.     Yet  a  little  while, 
And  in  thy  house  the  wail  of  men  and  women 
Shall  make  it  plain.     And  every  city  stirs 
Itself  in  arms  against  thee,  owning  those 
Whose  limbs  the  dogs  have  buried,  or  fierce  wolves, 
Or  winged  birds  have  brought  the  accursed  taint 
To  region  consecrate.     Doom  like  to  this, 
Sure  darting  as  an  arrow  to  its  mark, 
I  launch  at  thee,  (for  thou  dost  vex  me  sore,) 
An  archer  aiming  at  the  very  heart, 
And  thou  shalt  not  escape  its  fiery  sting. 
And  now,  O  boy,  lead  thou  me  home  again, 
That  he  may  vent  his  spleen  on  younger  men, 
And  learn  to  keep  his  tongue  more  orderly, 
With  better  thoughts  than  this  his  present  mood.        109° 

[  Sxit. 

Chor.  The  man  has  gone,  O  king,  predicting  woe, 
And  well  we  know,  since  first  our  raven  hair 
178 


ANTIGONE 

Was  mixed  with  grey,  that  never  yet  his  words 
Were  uttered  to  our  State  and  failed  of  truth. 

Creon.  I  know  it  too,  'tis  that  that  troubles  me. 
To  yield  is  hard,  but,  holding  out,  to  smite 
One's  soul  with  sorrow,  this  is  harder  still. 

Ckor.  We  need  wise  counsel,  O  Menoekeus'  son. 
Creon.  What  shall  I  do  ?     Speak  thou,  and  I'll  obey. 
Chor.  Go  then,  and  free  the  maiden  from  her  tomb,1100 
And  give  a  grave  to  him  who  lies  exposed. 

Creon.  Is  this  thy  counsel  ?    Dost  thou  bid  me  yield  ? 
Chor.  Without  delay,  O  king,  for  lo  !   they  come, 
The  Gods'  swift-footed  ministers  of  ill, 
And  in  an  instant  lay  the  self-willed  low. 

Creon.  Ah  me  !  'tis  hard  ;  and  yet  I  bend  my  will 
To  do  thy  bidding.     With  necessity 
We  must  not  fight  at  such  o'erwhelming  odds. 

Chor.  Go  then  and  act !     Commit  it  not  to  others. 
Creon.  E'en  as  I  am  I'll  go.     Come,  come,  my  men, 
Present  or  absent,  come,  and  in  your  hands 
Bring  axes  :  come  to  yonder  eminence. 
And  I,  since  now  my  judgment  leans  that  way, 
Who  myself  bound  her,  now  myself  will  loose, 
Too  much  I  fear  lest  it  should  wisest  prove 
Maintaining  ancient  laws  to  end  my  life.  [Exit. 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  O  Thou  of  many  names,1 
Of  that  Cadmeian  maid2 
The  glory  and  the  joy, 
Whom  Zeus  as  offspring  owns, 
Zeus,  thundering  deep  and  loud, 

1  The  exulting  hopes  of  the  Chorus,  rising  out  of  Creon's  repent- 
ance, seem  purposely  brought  into  contrast  with  the  tragedy  which 
is  passing  while  they  are  in  the  very  act  of  chanting  their  hymns. 

*  The  Cadmeian  maid  is  Sernele,  the  bride  o?  Zeus,  who  perished 
when  the  God  revealed  himself  as  the  thunderer. 
179 


ANTIGONE 

Who  watchest  over  famed  Italia,1 

And  reign'st  o'er  all  the  bays  that  Deo  claims 

On  fair  Eleusis'  coast.*  1110 

Bacchos,  who  dwell'st  in  Thebes,  the  mother-town 

Of  all  thy  Bacchant  train, 

Along  Ismenos'  stream, 

And  with  the  dragon's  brood;8 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Thee,  o'er  the  double  peak 

Of  yonder  height  the  blaze 

Of  flashing  fire  beholds, 

Where  nymphs  of  Cory co*4 

Go  forth  in  Bacchic  dance, 

And  by  the  flowery  stream  of  Castaly,  11R 

And  Thee,  the  ivied  slopes  of  Nysa's  hills,* 

And  vine-clad  promontory, 
(While  words  of  more  than  mortal  melody 

Shout  out  the  well-known  name,) 

Send  forth,  the  guardian  lord 

Of  the  wide  streets  of  Thebes. 

STROPHE  II 

Above  all  cities  Thou, 
With  her,  thy  mother  whom  the  thunder  slew, 

1  Southern  Italy,  the  Magna  Grascia  of  the  old  geographers,  is 
named  as  famous  both  for  its  wines  and  its  cultus  of  Bacchos, 
perhaps  also  with  a  special  allusion  to  the  foun  lation  of  Thurii  by 
Ihe  Athenians. 

2  Here,  as  in  (Ed.  Col.  (680),  the  poet  speaks  as  one  who  had 
been  initiated  in  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis,  where  Bacchos,  under  the 
name  lacchos,  received  a  special  adoration. 

3  The  people  descended  from  the  dragon's  teeth  sown  by  Cadmos. 
«  From  Italia  and  Eleusis  the  C'horus  passes  to  Parnassos,  as  the 

centre  of  the  Bacchic  cultus.  On  the  twin  peaks  of  that  mountain 
flames  were  said  to  have  been  seen,  telling  of  the  pre  ence  of  the 
God. 

8  The  "  ivied  slopes"  are  those  of  the  Euboean  Nysa,  where  grew 
Ibe  wondrous  vine  described  in  Fragm.  235. 
1 80 


A  N  T I G  O  N  fi 

Dost  look  on  it  with  love  ; 
And  now,  since  all  the  city  bendeth  low 

Beneath  the  sullen  plague,  1HO 

Come  Thou  with  cleansing  tread 
O'er  the  Parnassian  slopes, 
Or  o'er  the  moaning  straits.1 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

O  Thou,  who  lead'st  the  band, 
The  choral  band  of  stars  still  breathing  fire,* 

Lord  of  the  hymns  of  night, 
The  child  of  highest  Zeus  ;  appear,  O  king, 

With  Thyian  maidens  wild, 

Who  all  night  long  in  dance, 

With  frenzied  chorus  sing 

Thy  praise,  their  lord,  lacchos. 

Enter  Messenger. 

Mess.  Ye  men  of  Cadmos  and  Amphion's  house,* 
I  know  no  life  of  mortal  man  which  I 
Would  either  praise  or  blame.     'Tis  Fortune's  chance 
That  raiseth  up,  and  Fortune  bringeth  low, 
The  man  who  lives  in  good  or  evil  plight ; 
And  prophet  of  men's  future  there  is  none. 
For  Creon,  so  I  deemed,  deserved  to  be 
At  once  admired  and  envied,  having  saved 
This  land  of  Cadmos  from  the  hands  of  foes ; 
And,  having  ruled  with  fullest  sovereignty, 

1  The  "  moaning  straits"  of  the  Euripos,  if  the  God  is  thought  of 
as  coming  from  Nysa,  the  "  slopes,"  if  he  comes  from  Parnassos. 

2  The  imagery  of  the    Bacchic   thiasos,   with    its   torch-bearers 
moving  in  rhythmic  order,  is  transfers  d  to  the  heavens,  and  the 
stars  themselves  are  thought  of  as  a  choral  band  led  by  the  Lord  of 
life  and  joy. 

8  In  the  myths  of  the  foundation  of  Thebes,  Amphion  was  said  to 
have  built  its  walls  by  the  mere  power  of  his  minstrelsy,  the  stones 
moving,  as  he  played,  each  into  its  appointed  place. 
181 


ANTIGONE 

He  lived  and  prospered,  joyous  in  a  rare 

Of  goodly  offspring.     Now,  all  this  is  gone  ; 

For  when  men  lose  the  joys  that  sweeten  life, 

I  cannot  deem  they  live,  but  rather  count 

As  if  a  breathing  corpse.     His  heaped-up  stores 

Of  wealth  are  large,  so  be  it,  and  he  lives 

With  all  a  sovereign's  state  ;  and  yet,  if  joy 

Be  absent,  all  the  rest  I  count  as  nought, 

And  would  not  weigh  them  against  pleasure's  charm,  117° 

More  than  a  vapour's  shadow. 

Chor.  What  is  this  ? 

What  new  disaster  tell'st  thou  of  our  chiefs  ? 

Men.  Dead  are  they,  and  the  living  cause  their  death. 

Chor.  Who  slays,  and  who  is  slaughtered  ?     Tell  thy 
tale. 

Mess.  Hzmon  is  dead,  slain,  weltering  in  his  blood. 

Chor.  By  his  own  act,  or  by  his  father's  hand  ? 

Mess.  His  own,  in  wrath  against  his  father's  crime. 

Cher.  O  prophet  !    true,  most   true,  those   words  of 
thine. 

Men.  Since  things  stand   thus,  we  well  may  counsel 
take. 

Chor.  Lo  !  Creon's  wife  comes,  sad  Eurydike. 
She  from  the  house  approaches,  hearing  speech 
About  her  son,  or  else  by  accident. 

Enter  EURYDIKE. 

Euryd.  I  on  my  way,  my  friends,  as  suppliant  bound, 
To  pay  my  vows  at  Pallas'  shrine,  have  heard 
Your  words,  and  so  I  chanced  to  draw  the  bolt 
Of  the  half-opened  door,  when  lo  !   a  sound 
Falls  on  my  ears,  of  evil  striking  home, 
And  terror-struck  I  fall  in  deadly  swoon 
Back  in  my  handmaids'  arms  ;  yet  tell  it  me, 
Tell  the  tale  once  again,  for  I  shall  hear, 
By  long  experience  disciplined  to  grief. 
182 


ANTIGONE 

Mess.  Dear  lady,  I  will  tell  thee  :  I  was  by, 
And  will  not  leave  one  word  of  truth  untold. 
Why  should  we  smooth  and  gloze,  where  all  too  soon 
We  should  be  found  as  liars?     Truth  is  still 
The  only  safety.     Lo  !  I  went  with  him, 
Thy  husband,  in  attendance,  to  the  edge 
Of  yonder  plain,  where  still  all  ruthlessly 
The  corpse  of  Polyneikes  lay  exposed, 
Mangled  by  dogs.     And,  having  prayed  to  her, 
The  Goddess  of  all  pathways,1  and  to  Pluto, 
To  temper  wrath  with  pity,  him  they  washed 
With  holy  washing;  and  what  yet  was  left 
We  burnt  in  branches  freshly  cut,  and  heaped 
A  high-raised  grave  from  out  his  native  soil, 
And  then  we  entered  on  the  stone-paved  home, 
Death's  marriage-chamber  for  the  ill-starred  maid. 
And  some  one  hears,  while  standing  yet  atar, 
Shrill  voice  of  wailing  near  the  bridal  bower, 
By  funeral  rites  unhallowed,  and  he  comes 
And  tells  my  master,  Creon.     On  his  ears, 
Advancing  nearer,  falls  a  shriek  confused 
Of  bitter  sorrow,  and  with  groaning  loud,  I:1<) 

He  utters  one  sad  cry,  "  Me  miserable ! 
And  am  I  then  a  prophet?     Do  I  wend 
This  day  the  dreariest  way  of  all  my  life? 
My  son's  voice  greets  me.     Go,  my  servants,  go, 
Quickly  draw  near,  and  standing  by  the  tomb, 
Search  ye  and  see ;  and  where  the  stone  torn  out 
Shall  make  an  opening,  look  ye  in,  and  say 
If  I  hear  Haemon's  voice,  or  if  my  soul 
Is  cheated  by  the  Gods."     And  then  we  searched, 
As  he,  our  master,  in  his  frenzy  bade  us ; 

1  Hecate,  more  or  less  identified  with  Persephone,  and  named 
here  as  the  Goddess  who,  being  the  guardian  of  highways,  was 
wroth  with  Thebes  for  the  pollution  caused  by  the  unburied  corpse 
ol  Polyneikes. 

183 


ANTIGONE 

And,  in  the  furthest  corner  of  the  vault,  lm 

We  saw  her  hanging  by  her  neck,  with  cord 

Of  linen  threads  entwined,  and  him  we  found 

Clasping  her  form  in  passionate  embrace, 

And  mourning  o'er  the  doom  that  robbed  him  of  her, 

His  father's  deed,  and  that  his  marriage  bed, 

So  full  of  woe.     When  Creon  saw  him  there, 

Groaning  aloud  in  bitterness  of  heart, 

He  goes  to  him,  and  calls  in  wailing  voice, 

"  Poor  boy !    what  hast  thou   done  ?     Hast  thou   then 

lost 

Thy  reason?     In  what  evil  sinkest  thou  ? 
Come  forth,  my  child,  on  bended  knee  I  ask  thee."    ino 
And  then  the  boy,  with  fierce,  wild-gleaming  eyes, 
Glared  at  him,  spat  upon  his  face,  and  draws, 
Still  answering  nought,  the  sharp  two-handled  sword. 
Missing  his  aim,  (his  father  from  the  blow 
Turning  aside,)  in  anger  with  himself, 
The  poor  ill-doomed  one,  even  as  he  was, 
Fell  on  his  sword,  and  drove  it  through  his  brea?t, 
Full  half  its  length,  and  clasping,  yet  alive, 
The  maiden's  arm,  still  soft,  he  there  breathes  out 
In  broken  gasps,  upon  her  fair  white  check, 
Swift  stream  of  bloody  shower.     So  they  lie, 
Dead  bridegroom  with  dead  bride,  and  he  has  gained, 
Poor  boy,  his  marriage  rites  in  Hades'  home, 
And  left  to  all  men  witness  terrible, 
That  man's  worst  ill  is  want  of  counsel  wise. 

[Exit  EURYDIKE. 

Chor.  What  dost  thou  make  of  this?     She  turneth 

back, 
Before  one  word,  or  good  or  ill,  she  speaks. 

Mess.  I  too  am  full  of  wonder.     Yet  with  hopes 
I  feed  myself,  she  will  not  think  it  meet, 
Hearing  her  son's  woes,  openly  to  wail 
Out  in  the  town,  but  to  her  handmaids  there 
1*4 


ANTIGONE 

Will  give  command  to  wail  her  woe  at  home. 
Too  trained  a  judgment  has  she  so  to  err. 

Cher.  I  know  not.     To  my  mind,  or  silence  hard, 
Or  vain  wild  cries,  are  signs  of  bitter  woe. 

Mess.  Soon  we  shall  know,  within  the  house  advanc- 
ing* 

If,  in  the  passion  of  her  heart,  she  hides 
A  secret  purpose.     Truly  dost  thou  speak  ; 
There  is  a  terror  in  that  silence  hard. 

Char.  [Seeing  CREON    appro  act 'ing  with   the  corpse   of 

H^T.MON  in  his  arms.~\ 

And  lo  !   the  king  himself  is  drawing  nigh, 
And  in  his  hands  he  bears  a  record  clear, 
No  woe  (if  I  may  speak)  by  others  caused, 
Himself  the  great  offender. 

Enter  CREON,  bearing  H^F.MON'S  body. 

Creon.  Woe!  for  the  sins  of  souls  of  evil  mood, 

Stern,  mighty  to  destroy  ! 
O  ye  who  look  on  those  of  kindred  race, 

The  slayers  and  the  slain, 
Woe  for  mine  own  rash  plans  that  prosper  not ! 
Woe  for  thee,  son  ;  but  new  in  life's  career, 
And  by  a  new  fate  dying ! 

Woe!  woe! 

Thou  diest,  thou  art  gone, 
Not  by  thine  evil  counsel,  but  by  mine. 

Ckor.  Ah  me  !     Too  late  thou   seem'st   to  see   the 

right. 

Creon.  Ah  me  ! 

I  learn  the  grievous  lesson.     On  my  head, 
God,  pressing  sore,  hath  smitten  me  and  vexed, 
In  ways  most  rough  and  terrible,  (Ah  me  !) 
Shattering  my  joy,  as  trampled  under  foot. 
Woe!  woe!   Man's  labours  are  but  labour  lost. 
185 


ANTIGONE 

Enter  Second  Messenger. 
Sec.  Mess.  My  master!   thou,  as   one  who  hast  full 

store, 

One  source  of  sorrow  bearest  in  thine  arms, 
And  others  in  thy  house,  too  soon,  it  seems, 
Thou  nced'st  must  come  and  see. 

Creon.  And  what  remains 

Worse  evil  than  the  evils  that  we  bear? 

Sec.  Mess.  Thy  wife   is  dead,   that  corpse's   mother 

true, 
111  starred  one,  smitten  with  a  blow  just  dealt. 

Creon.  O  agony ! 
Haven  of  Death,  that  none  may  pacify, 

Why  dost  thou  thus  destroy  me  r 
[Turning  to  Messenger.]  O  thou  who  comest,  bringing 

in  thy  train 
Woes  horrible  to  tell, 
Thou  tramplest  on  a  man  already  slain. 
What  say'st  thou  ?     What  new  tidings  bring'st  to  me  ? 

Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  1MO 

Is  it  that  now  there  waits  in  store  for  me 
My  own  wife's  death  to  crown  my  misery  ? 

Char.  Full  clearly  thou  may'st  see.     No  longer  now 
Does  yon  recess  conceal  her. 

[The  gates  open  and  show  the  dead  body 

0/"EuRYniKK.] 

Creon.  Woe  is  me  ! 

This  second  ill  I  gaze  on,  miserable, 
What  fate,  yea,  what  still  lies  in  wait  for  me  ? 
Here  in  my  arms  I  bear  what  was  my  son ; 
And  there,  O  misery!  look  upon  the  dead. 
Ah,  wretched  mother!  ah,  my  son  !  my  son  ! 

Sec.  Mess.  In  frenzy  wild  she  round  the  altar  clung, 
And  closed  her  darkening  eyelids,  and  bewailed 
186 


ANTIGONE 

*The  noble  fate  of  Megareus,1  who  died 

Long  since,  and  then  again  that  corpse  thou  hast; 

And  last  of  all  she  cried  a  bitter  cry 

Against  thy  deeds,  the  murderer  of  thy  sons. 

Creon.  Woe  !  woe  !  alas ! 
I  shudder  in  my  fear.     Will  no  one  strike 
A  deadly  blow  with  sharp  two-edged  sword  ? 

Fearful  my  fate,  alas !  ll10 

And  with  a  fearful  woe  full  sore  beset. 

Sec.  Mess.  She  in  her  death  charged  thee  with  being 

the  cause 
Of  all  their  sorrows,  these  and  those  of  old. 

Creon.  And  in  what  way  struck  she  the  murderous 
blow? 

Sec.  Mess.  With  her  own  hand  below  her  heart  she 

stabbed, 
Hearing  her  son's  most  pitiable  fate. 

Creon.  Ah  me  !     The  fault  is  mine.     On  no  one  else, 
Of  all  that  live,  the  fearful  guilt  can  come ; 
I,  even  I,  did  slay  thee,  woe  is  me ! 
I,  yes,  I  speak  the  truth.     Lead  me,  ye  guards 
Lead  me  forth  quickly;  lead  me  out  of  sight, 
More  crushed  to  nothing  than  is  nothing's  self. 

Chor.  Thou  counsellest  gain,  if  gain  there  be  in  ills, 
For  present  ills  when  shortest  then  are  best. 

Creon.  Oh,  come  thou  then,  come  thou, 
The  last  of  all  my  dooms,  that  brings  to  me 
Best  boon,  my  life's  last  day.     Come  then,  oh  come, 
That  never  more  I  look  upon  the  light. 

Chor.  These  things  are  in  the  future.      What  is  near, 
That  we  must  do.     O'er  what  is  yet  to  come 
They  watch,  to  Whom  that  work  of  right  belongs. 

Creon.  I  did  but  pray  for  what  I  most  desire. 

i  In  the  legend  which  Sophocles  follows,  Megareus,  a  son  of 
Creon  and  Eiirydike,  had  been  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice  to  save  the 
state  from  its  dar.yers. 


ANTIGONE 

Chor.  Pray  thou  for  nothing  then  :  for  mortal  man 
There  is  no  issue  from  a  doom  decreed. 

Creon.   [Looking  at  the  two  corpses^    Lead  me    then 

forth,  vain  shadow  that  I  am, 

Who  slew  thee,  O  my  son,  unwillingly,  1S4S 

And  thee  too — (O  my  sorrow!) — and  I  know  not 
Which  way  to  look  or  turn.     All  near  at  hand 
Is  turned  to  evil ;  and  upon  my  head 
There  falls  a  doom  far  worse  than  I  can  bear. 
Chor.  Man's  highest  blessedness, 

In  wisdom  chiefly  stands  ; 
And  in  the  things  that  touch  upon  the  Gods, 
'Tis  best  in  word  or  deed 
To  shun  unholy  pride  ; 

Great  words  of  boasting  bring  great  punishments,        :sso 
And  so  to  grey-haired  age 
Teach  wisdom  at  the  last. 


ELECTR A 

DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

Attendant  foster-father  to  CLYTEMNESTRA,  mother  of 

ORESTES.  ORESTES. 

ORESTES,  son  of  AGAMEMXON.  ELECTRA,  \sisters  of 

PY LADES,  friend  ^/"ORESTES.  CHRYSOTHEMIS,  /ORESTES. 

^EciSTHOS,  husband  of  Chorus  ofArgive  Maidens. 
CLYTEMNESTRA. 

ARGUMENT. — It  came  to  pass  that  when  Agamemnon  led 
the  host  of  the  Achceans  against  Troia,  his  wife,  Clytemnestra, 
the  daughter  of  Tyndareus,  fell  away  from  her  faithfulness, 
partly  because  she  was  wroth,  or  feigned  to  be  so,  with  her 
husband,  for  having  sacrificed  their  daughter  Iphigeneia  to 
turn  aside  the  wrath  of  Artemis,  and  obtain  a  favouring 
breeze  for  the  ships  of  the  Achceans;  and  partly  because 
Mgisthos,  son  of  Thyestes,  the  brother  of  Atreus,  father  of 
Agamemnon,  had  gained  her  to  his  will.  And  when  Aga- 
memnon returned  from  Troia  to  Mykence,  JEgisthos  and 
Clytemnestra  slew  him,  and  reigned  over  the  Argives  in  his 
place,  but  Electra,  his  daughter,  saved  her  brother  Orestes, 
and  sent  him  secretly  in  charge  of  a  faithful  servant  to 
Strophios  of  Phokis,  his  father's  friend.  And  when  eight 
years  had  passed,  and  Electro,  liad  sent  and  received  from 
him  many  secret  messages,  Orestes  at  last  came,  with  his 
faithful  friend  Pylades,  the  son  of  Strophios,  and  the  servant 
who  had  watched  over  him,  to  Mykena,  that  he  might  do  as 
the  God  at  Delphi  had  bidden  him,  and  take  vengeance  on  his 
.89 


ELECTRA 

father's  murderers.  And  it  chanced  thai  when  ht  came,  hit 
mother,  Clytemnestra,  had  had  a  vision,  which  filled  her  with 
fear,  and  sht  sent  her  younger  daughter,  Chrysothemis,  with 
funereal  offerings  to  tht  tomb  of  Agamemnon.  Electrn  mean- 
while had  never  ceased  to  bewail  her  father's  death,  and 
because  of  this,  her  mother  and  sEgisthv*  had  dealt  harshly 
with  her. 


ELECTRA 

SCENE. — MYKEN*.  On  one  tide  the  entrance  of  the  Palace;  m  the  other, 
in  the  background,  the  funeral  mound  of  Agamemnon ;  A$pta  end 
Temples  in  the  centre,  ARCOS  ;*  the  distance. 

Enter  ORESTES,  PYLADES,  and  Attendant. 

Attend.  Now,  son  of  Agamemnon,  who  of  old 
Led  our  great  hosts  at  Troy,  'tis  thine  to  see 
What  long  thou  hast  desired.     For  lo  !  there  lies 
The  ancient  Argos,  which,  with  yearning  wish, 
Thou  oft  did'st  turn  to ;  here  the  sacred  grove 
Of  her  who  wandered,  spurred  by  ceaseless  sting, 
Daughter  of  Inachos:1  and  this,  Orestes, 
Is  the  wide  agora,  Lykeian  named 
In  honour  of  the  God  who  slew  the  wolves ;  * 
Here  on  the  left,  the  shrine  of  Hera  famed  ; 8 
And  where  we  stand,  Mykenz,  rich  in  gold, 
Thou  look'st  upon,  in  slaughter  also  rich, 
The  house  of  Pelops'  line.     Here,  long  ago, 
After  thy  father's  murder,  I  received  thee, 
At  thy  dear  sister's  hands,  to  kindred  true ; 
And  took  thee,  saved  thee,  reared  thee  in  my  home, 

1  lo,  daughter  of  Inachos,  beloved  by  Zeus,  and  driven  over  land 
and  sea  by  Hera,  was  one  of  the  special  deities  of  Argos,  and  the 
country  was  sometimes  distinguished  from  other  districts  bearing 
the  same  name  by  the  epithet  inacheian. 

2  Of  the  many  conjectures  as  to  the  meaning  Lykeian,  Sophocles 
adopts  that  which  conuected  it  with  the  idea  of  Apollo,  as  clearing 
the  country  from  the  wolves  that  troubled  it. 

3  The  temple  of  Hera  lay  between  Argos  and  Mykeiise,  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  the  former  city. 


ELECTRA 

To  this  thy  manhood,  destined  to  avenge 

Thy  father's  death.     Now,  therefore,  O  my  son, 

Orestes,  and  thou,  Pylades,  most  dear 

Of  all  true  friends,  we  needs  must  quickly  plan 

What  best  to  do.     For  lo !  the  sun's  bright  rays 

Wake  up  the  birds  to  tune  their  matin  songs, 

And  star-decked  night's  dark  shadows  flee  away ; 

Ye,  then,  before  ye  enter,  taking  rest, 

The  roof  of  living  man,  hold  conference; 

For  as  things  are,  we  may  not  linger  an  : 

The  time  is  come  for  action. 

Ores.  Dearest  friend, 

Of  servants  found  most  faithful,  still  thou  giv'st 
Clear  tokens  of  thy  nobleness  of  heart 
In  all  that  touches  us.     For  as  the  steed, 
Though  he  be  old,  if  good  blood  flows  in  him, 
In  danger's  hour  still  loses  not  his  fire, 
But  pricks  his  ears,  so  thou  dost  urge  us  on, 
And  tak'st  thyself  thy  station  in  the  van. 
Wherefore,  I  tell  thee  what  my  mind  approves, 
And  thou,  give  heed,  full  heed,  to  all  my  words; 
And,  if  I  miss  the  mark  in  aught,  correct: 
For  I,  when  I  had  reached  the  Pythian  shrine, 
That  I  might  learn  by  what  device  to  wreak 
My  vengeance  on  my  father's  murderers, 
Heard  this  from  Phcebos,  which  thou  too  shalt  iearn. 
That  I  myself,  unarmed  with  shield  or  host, 
Should  subtly  work  the  righteous  deed  of  blood. 
Since  then  we  heard  an  oracle  like  this, 
Do  thou  go  in,  whene'er  occasion  serves, 
Within  this  house,  and  learn  what  passes  there, 
That,  knowing  all,  thou  may'st  report  it  well ; 
Changed  as  thou  art  by  age  and  lapse  of  years, 
They  will  not  know  thee,  nor,  with  those  grey  hairs, 
Even  suspect  thee.     And  with  this  pretence 
Go  in,  that  thou  a  Phokian  stranger  arc, 
192 


ELECTRA 

Come  from  a  man  named  Phanoteus ;   for  he 

Of  all  their  friends  is  counted  most  in  fame, 

And  tell  them — yea,  and  add  a  solemn  oath — 

That  some  fell  fate  has  brought  Orestes'  death, 

In  Pythian  games,1  from  out  the  whirling  car 

Rolled  headlong  to  the  earth.     This  tale  tell  thou ;       60 

And  we,  first  honouring  my  father's  grave, 

As  the  God  bade  us,  with  libations  pure 

And  tresses  from  our  brow,  will  then  come  back, 

Bearing  the  urn  well  wrought  with  sides  of  bronze, 

Which,  thou  know'st  well,  'mid  yonder  shrubs  lies  hid, 

That  we  with  crafty  words  may  bring  to  them 

The  pleasant  news  that  my  poor  frame  is  gone, 

Consumed  with  fire,  to  dust  and  ashes  turned. 

Why  should  this  grieve  me,  when,  by  show  of  death, 

In  truth  I  safety  gain,  and  win  renown  ? 

To  me  no  speech  that  profits  soundeth  ill, 

For  often  have  I  seen  men  known  as  wise, 

Reported  dead  in  words  of  idle  tales,2 

And  then,  when  fortune  brings  them  home  again, 

Gain  more  abundant  honours.     So  I  boast 

That  I,  from  out  this  rumour  of  my  death, 

Shall,  like  a  meteor,  blaze  upon  my  foes, 

But  oh  !   thou  fatherland,  ye  Gods  of  home, 

Receive  me,  prosper  me  in  this  my  way  ; 

And  thou,  my  father's  house,  (for  lo  !   I  come, 

Sent  by  the  Gods  to  cleanse  thee  righteously,) 

Send  me  not  back  dishonoured  from  the  land, 

But  lord  of  ancient  wealth,  and  found  at  last 

Restorer  of  my  race.     So  far  I  've  said  : 

1  The  mention   of  the   Pythian  games  must    be  noted  as  an 
anachronism.     The  date  assigned  for  their  institution  is  B.C.  586. 

2  Orestes  may  be  supposed  to  refer  to  Odysseus,  who  appeared 
and  triumphed  after  the  report  of  his  death.     There  may  possibly 
be  a  reference,  intelligible  to  those  who  heard  the  play,  to  the  story 
of  Pythagoras,  who,  after  an  apparent  death,  returned  to  life,  and 
preached  the  doctrine  of  the  metempsychosis. 

i  193  * 


ELECTRA 

And  now,  old  friend,  'tis  thine  to  watch  thy  task  : 
We  twain  go  forth.     The  true,  right  time  is  come, 
That  mightiest  master  of  all  works  of  men. 

Elec.  [IPitAix.]  Woe,  woe  is  me  !  O  misery  ! 

Attend.  [To  ORESTES.]  I  thought,  my  son,  but  now  I 

heard  a  cry 
As  of  some  hand-maid  wailing  within  doors. 

Ores.  And  can  it  be  Electra,  helpless  one  r 
Shall  we  remain  and  listen  to  her  plaint  ? 

Attend.  In  no  wise.     Let  us  not  attempt  to  do 
Aught  else  before  what  Loxias  bade  us  do, 
And  start  from  that,  upon  thy  father's  grave 
Pouring  the  lustral  stream.     For  this  shall  bring 
Our  victory,1  and  strength  in  all  we  do. 

{Exeunt  ORESTES,  PYLADES,  and  Attendant. 
Enter  ELECTRA,  followed  bj  a  train  o/  Maidens. 

0  holy  light  of  day, 

And  air  with  earth  commensurate, 
Many  the  wailing  songs, 
Many  the  echoing  blow, 

On  bosom  stained  with  blood  *° 

Thou  heardest,  when  the  night 
Of  murky  darkness  ceased  ; 
And  how,  in  all  my  vigils  of  the  night 

1  wail  my  hapless  sire, 

It  knows,  the  loathed  bed  of  hated  house  ;  - 
My  sire,  whom  Ares  fierce  and  murderous, 
On  alien  shore  received  not  as  a  guest, 
But  she,  my  mother,  and  her  paramour, 
^gisthos,  with  the  blood-stained  hatchet,  smote 

As  those  that  timber  fell 

Smite  down  the  lofty  oak. 

1  The  two  words,  "victory  and  strength,"  habitually  went 
together  in  the  Pythian  oracles  and  in  formulae  of  prayer.  They 
were  to  an  Athenian  audience  what  "grace  and  mercy,"  '  glory 
and  honour,"  would  be  to  us. 

'94 


ELECTRA 

And  thou,  my  father,  hast  no  pit/  gained  10° 

From  any  one  but  me, 

Though  thou  a  death  hast  died 
So  grievous  and  so  foul  to  look  upon. 

But  I  at  least  will  ne'er 
Refrain  mine  eyes  from  weeping,  while  I  live, 

Nor  yet  my  voice  from  wail  ; 

Not  while  I  see  this  day, 

And  yon  bright  twinkling  stars  ; 

But,  like  a  nightingale 

Of  its  young  brood  bereaved, 
Before  the  gates  I  speak  them  forth  to  all. 
O  house  of  Hades  and  Persephone, 
O  Hermes  of  the  abyss,  and  thou,  dread  Curse,' 
And  ye,  Erinnyes,  daughters  of  the  Gods, 

Ye  dreaded  Ones  who  look 
On  all  who  perish,  slain  unrighteously, 
On  all  whose  bed  is  stealthily  defiled, 
Come  ye,  and  help,  avenge  my  father's  death  ; 

Send  me  my  brother  here, 

For  I  alone  must  fail, 
Sorrow's  great  burden  in  the  balance  cast.  12° 

Chor.  O  child,  Electra  dear, 
Child  of  a  mother  guilty  above  all, 
Why  dost  thou  ever  wear  thyself  away 

In  ceaseless,  wailing  cry, 
For  him  thy  father,  Agamemnon,  slain, 
Long  years  ago  by  godless  subtlety, 

Thy  mother's,  steeped  in  guile, 

By  coward  hand  betrayed  ? 

May  he  who  did  the  deed 

(If  this  my  wish  be  right) 

i  Hermes  was  the  God  who  had  led  the  soul  of  Agamemnon  to 
Hades  ;  the  Curse,  that  which  he  had  uttered,  when  dying,  against 
Clytemnestra. 

'95 


ELECT  RA 

Perish  for  evermore  ! 
Elec.  Offspring  of  noble  souls, 

Ye  come  to  soothe  my  woes ; 

I  know  it,  yea,  I  comprehend  it  all, 

Nothing  escapes  my  ken  ; 
And  yet  I  will  not  leave  my  task  undone, 
Nor  cease  to  wail  my  hapless  father's  fate. 
Ye  then  who  give  me  every  token  kind 

Of  true  affection's  bond, 

Leave  me,  I  pray,  ah !  leave 

To  vent  my  sorrow  thus. 
Chtr.  And  yet  with  groans  and  prayers, 
From  Hades'  pool,  where  all  that  live  must  go, 
Thy  sire  thou  canst  not  raise,  but  passest  on, 

Lamenting  ceaselessly, 

From  evil  one  might  bear 
To  woe  that  baffles  every  remedy, 
Where  respite  from  our  sorrows  there  is  none. 

Why,  why,  I  ask,  dost  thou 

Still  in  thy  spirit  seek 

Those  evils  hard  to  bear  ? 
Elee.  Childish  and  weak  is  he 

Who  learneth  to  forget 
The  parents  that  have  perished  miserably  ; 

Far  better  pleaseth  me 

The  wailing  one  who  "  Itys,  Itys,"1  mourns, 
The  bird  heartbroken,  messenger  of  Zeus. 

i  The  cry  of  "  Itys."  which  the  Greek  ear  found  in  the  song  of 
the  nightingale,  connected  itself  with  the  story  of  Tereus,  king  of 
Thrace,  who  married  Procne,  daughter  of  Pandion,  king  of  Athens. 
Then  doing  violence  to  her  sister  Philomela,  he  tore  out  her  tongue 
and  imprisoned  her,  that  she  might  not  tell  of  the  outrage.  She. 
however,  found  means  to  tell  her  sister  Procne  by  a  piece  of  tapestry- 
work,  and  she,  wroth  with  Tennis,  slew  his  son  Itys,  and  gave  his 
flesh  to  his  father  that  he  might  eat  it.  And  then  Zeus  put  forth  his 
power,  and  changed  Philomela  into  a  nightingale,  and  Procne  into 
a  swallow,  and  Tereus  into  a  hoopoo,  and  so  the  nightingale  ever 
flies  from  the  hoopoo  and  wails  for  Itys.  Sophocles  had  dramatised 
the  history  in  bis  Tereus,  probably  before  the  date  of  the  Electra, 
196 


ELECTRA 

Ah,  Niobe! '  with  all  thy  countless  woes 

I  count  thee  still  divine, 

Who  in  thy  tomb  of  rock 

Weepest  for  evermore. 
Chor.  Not  unto  thee  alone, 

My  child,  of  those  that  live 

Have  grief  and  sorrow  come  ; 
Nor  sufferest  thou  aught  more  than  those  within 
With  whom  thou  sharest  home  and  kith  and  kin, 
Iphianassa  and  Chrysothemis ; 
And  one  is  mourning  in  a  youth  obscure, 

Yet  happy,  too,  in  part, 
Whom  one  day  the  Mykenians'  glorious  land 
Shall  welcome  as  the  heir  of  noble  race. 

Coming  to  this  our  soil, 

As  sent  by  grace  of  Zeus, 

Orestes,  come  at  last. 
Elec.  Ah !  him  I  wait  for  with  unwearied  hope, 

And  go,  ah  !  piteous  fate  ! 

Childless,  unwedded  still ; 

My  cheeks  are  wet  with  tears, 
And  still  I  bear  an  endless  doom  of  woe. 

And  he,  alas  !   forgets 
All  he  has  met  with,  all  that  I  had  taught. 

What  message  goes  from  me 
That  is  not  mocked  f  for  still  he  yearns  to  come, 

And  yet  he  deigneth  not, 
Yearn  though  he  may,  to  show  himself  to  us. 
Chor.  Take  heart,  my  child,  take  heart ; 

Mighty  in  heaven  He  dwells, 

Zeus,  seeing,  guiding  all : 
Resign  to  Him  the  wrath  that  vexes  sore. 
And  as  for  them,  the  foes  whom  thou  dost  hate, 
Nor  grieve  too  much,  nor  yet  forget  them  quite ; 

1  Niobe — comp.  the  note  on  Antigone,  823. 
197 


ELECTRA 

Time  is  a  calm  and  patient  Deity : 

For  neither  he  who  dwells 

Where  oxen  graze  on  far  Krisaean  shore,  IM 

The  boy  who  sprang  from  Agamemnon's  loins, 

Lives  heedless  of  thy  woe  ; 

Nor  yet  the  God  who  reigns 

By  Acheron's  dark  shore. 
Elec.  And  yet  the  larger  portion  of  my  life 

Is  gone  without  a  hope, 

And  I  am  all  too  weak, 
Who  waste  away  in  orphaned  loneliness, 

Whom  no  dear  husband  loves, 
But,  like  an  alien  stranger  in  the  house, 

I  do  my  task  unmeet, 
And  tend  the  chambers  where  my  father  dwelt, 

In  this  unseemly  guise, 
And  stand  at  tables  all  too  poorly  filled. 

Cbor.  Sad  was  his  voice  in  that  his  homeward  march, 

And  sad  when  that  sharp  blow 

(There  in  his  father's  couch,) 

Of  brazen  axe  went  straight ; 

Guile  was  it  that  devised, 

And  lust  that  struck  the  blow, 
Engendering  foully  foulest  form  of  sin, 

Whether  it  was  a  God, 

Or  one  of  mortal  men, 

That  did  the  deed  of  guilt.  ••' 

Elec,  Ah,  day  of  all  that  ever  came  to  me, 

Most  horrible  by  far  ! 
O  night  !   O  sufferings,  strange  as  wonderful, 

Of  banquets  foul  and  dark  ! 
Dread  forms  of  death  which  he,  my  father,  saw 

Wrought  out  by  their  joint  hands, 
Who,  traitorous,  murdered  him  who  was  my  life, 

And  so  brought  death  to  me. 
May  He  who  dwelleth  on  Olympos  high, 
198 


ELECTRA 

God,  the  Almighty  One, 

Give  them  for  this  to  groan  all  grievously  ;  *" 

And  ne'er  may  they  in  prosperous  days  rejoice, 

Who  did  such  deeds  as  this. 

Chor.  Take  heed,  take  heed,  and  utter  speech  no  more. 
Hast  thou  no  thought  from  whence, 
Into  what  evils  dread, 
Sorrows  thou  mak'st  thine  own, 
Thou  fallest  piteously  ? 
For  thou  hast  reaped  excess  of  misery, 
Still  brooding  over  war 
In  thine  unquiet  heart  ; 

With  kings  'tis  ill  to  strive.  *** 

Elec.  I  was  sore  vexed  with  evils  dire,  yea,  dire  ; 
1  know  it  well ;  my  wrath  escapes  me  not. 

Yet  in  this  hard,  hard  fate, 
I  will  not  cease  from  uttering  woe  on  woe, 

While  life  still  holds  me  here. 
For  who  is  there,  companions  kind  and  true, 
From  whom  to  learn  the  speech  that  profiteth, 

Whose  thoughts  befit  the  time  ? 

Leave  me,  oh,  leave  me,  friends  that  fain  would  soothe. 
For  these  my  woes  as  endless  shall  be  known,  ** 

And  never  from  my  wailings  shall  I  cease, 

Nor  pause  to  count  my  tears. 
Chor.  And  yet,  in  pure  goodwill  I  speak  to  thee, 
As  mother  faithful  found, 
Not  to  heap  ills  on  ills. 
Elec.  What  limit  is  there  then  to  misery  \ 
What  ?     Is  it  noble  to  neglect  the  dead  ? 
Where  has  this  custom  grown  ? 
May  I  ne'er  share  their  praise, 
Nor,  should  I  come  to  any  form  of  good, 

Dwell  with  it  peaceably, 
If  I  should  stay  my  wailing  sorrow's  wings, 
And  leave  my  father  shamed  ? 
199 


ELECTRA 

For  if  the  dead,  as  dust  and  nothing  found, 

Shall  lie  there  in  his  woe, 

And  they  shall  fail  to  pay 

The  penalty  of  blood, 

Then  should  all  fear  of  Gods  from  earth  decay, 
And  all  men's  worship  prove  a  thing  of  nought. 

Cbor.  I  came,  my  child,  in  earnest  zeal  for  thee 
And  for  myself.     But  if  I  speak  not  well, 
Have  thou  thy  way,  and  we  will  follow  thee. 

E/ef.  I  feel  some  shame,  ye  women,  if  I  seem 
To  over- weary  you  with  many  tears : 
But  hard  compulsion  forces  me  to  this, 
Therefore  bear  with  me.     What  maid  nobly  born, 
Seeing  a  father's  sorrows,  would  not  do 
As  I  am  doing, — sorrows  which,  by  night 
As  well  as  day,  I  see  bud  forth  and  bloom, 
In  nowise  wither, — I  who,  first  of  all, 
Have  on  my  mother's  part,  yes,  hers  who  bore  me, 
Found  deadliest  hate  ;  and  then,  in  this  my  house, 
Companion  with  my  father's  murderers, 
I  bow  to  them,  and  at  their  hands  receive, 
Or  suffer  want.     And  next,  I  pray  thee,  think 
What  kind  of  days  I  pass,  beholding  him, 
^Egisthos,  sitting  on  my  father's  throne, 
And  seeing  him  wear  all  his  kingly  robes, 
And  pouring  forth  libations  on  the  hearth 
Where  his  hands  slew  him  ;  last,  and  worst  of  all, 
I  see  that  murderer  in  my  father's  couch, 
With  her,  my  wretched  mother,  if  that  name 
Of  mother  I  may  give  to  one  who  sleeps 
With  such  an  one  as  he  ;  and  she  is  bold, 
And  lives  with  that  adulterer,  fearing  not 
The  presence  of  Erinnyes,  but,  as  one 
Who  laughs  in  what  she  does,  she  notes  the  day 
In  which  she  slew  my  father  in  her  guile, 
And  on  it  forms  her  choral  band,  and  slays 


ELECTRA 

Her  sheep  each  month,  as  victims  to  the  Gods 

That  give  deliverance  ;'  I,  poor  hapless  one, 

Beholding  it,  (ah  misery!)  within 

Bewail,  and  pine,  and  mourn  the  fatal  feast,' 

Full  of  all  woe,  that  takes  my  father's  name, — 

I  by  myself  alone.     I  dare  not  weep, 

Not  even  weep,  as  fain  my  heart  would  wish  ; 

For  she,  that  woman,  noble  but  in  words, 

Heaps  on  my  head  reproaches  such  as  these : 

"  O  impious,  hateful  mood  !     Has  death  deprived 

Thee  only  of  a  father  ?     Do  none  else 

Feel  touch  of  sorrow  ?     Evil  fate  be  thine, 

And  never  may  the  Gods  that  reign  below 

Free  thee  from  wailing  !  "     So  she  still  reviles  ; 

But  when  she  hears  one  speak  Orestes'  name, 

As  one  day  coming,  then  in  maddened  rage 

She  comes  and  screams,  "  And  art  not  thou  the  cause  ? 

And  is  not  this  thy  deed,  who,  stealing  him, 

Orestes,  from  my  hands,  hast  rescued  him  ? 

But  know  that  thou  shalt  pay  full  price  for  this." 

So  does  she  howl,  and  he  too  eggs  her  on, 

That  spouse  of  hers  as  noble,  standing  near, 

That  utter  coward,  that  mere  mischief,  he 

Who  with  the  help  of  women  wages  war. 

And  J,  who  wait  Orestes  evermore 

To  come  and  stop  these  evils,  waste  away  ; 

For  he,  still  ever  meaning  to  effect 

Some  great  achievement,  brings  to  nothingness 

All  my  hopes  here,  and  all  hopes  far  away. 

At  such  a  time,  my  friends,  there  is  no  room 

For  self-control  or  measured  reverence  ; 

1  The  monthly  festival  which  Clytemnestra  kept  was  after  the 
pattern  of  new-moon  feasts  or  others  regulated  by  them. 

2  The  "feast  of  Agamemnon"  had  become  proverbial  as  the 
type  of  treacherous  hospitality,  and  it  seems  probable  that  the  poet 
so  framed  Electra's  words  as  to  call  up  that  association  in  the  minds 
of  his  heaj  ers. 


EI.ECTRA 

Ills  force  us  into  choosing  words  of  ill. 

Chor.  Tell  us,  I  pray,  if  thus  thou  speakest  out,         fl° 
./Egisthos  being  near,  or  gone  from  home. 

Elecy  From  home,  most  surely;  do  not  dream  that  I, 
If  he  were  near,  had  ventured  out  of  doors  ; 
But,  as  it  happens,  he  is  gone  a-field. 

Chor.  So  much  the  more  would  I  take  heart  to  hold 
My  converse  with  thee,  if  indeed  'tis  so. 

Elec.  Yes,  he  is  gone.     Ask  thou  whate'er  thou  wilt. 

Chor.  Well,  then,  I  ask  thee  of  thy  brother  first, 
Comes  he,  or  stays  he  still  ?     I  fain  would  know. 

Elec.  He  speaks  of  coming  ;  yet  he  nothing  does. 

Ckor.  One  who  works  great  things  oft  is  slow  in  them.  S'M 

Elec.  I  was  not  slow  when  I  did  save  his  life. 

Chor.  Take  heart.     Right  noble  he,  to  help  his  friends. 

Elec.  I  trust,  or  else  I  had  not  lived  till  now. 

Chor.  Not  one  word  more  ;  for  coming  from  the  house 
I  see  thy  sister,  of  one  father  born, 
And  of  one  mother,  fair  Chrysothemis ; 
And  in  her  hand  she  brings  sepulchral  gifts, 
Such  as  are  offered  to  the  souls  that  sleep.1 

Enter  CHRYSOTHEMIS,  bearing  funeral  offerings. 
Chrys.  What  plaint  is  this  thou  utterest,  sister  dear, 
Here  at  the  outlet  of  the  palace  gates  ? 
And  wilt  not  learn  the  lessons  time  should  teach 
To  yield  no  poor  compliance  to  a  wrath 
That  is  but  vain  ?     This  much  myself  I  know  ; 
1  grieve  at  what  befalls  us.     Had  I  strength, 
1  would  show  plainly  what  I  think  of  them  ; 
But  now  it  seems  most  wise  in  weather  foul, 
To  slack  my  sail,  and  make  no  idle  show 
Of  doing  something  when  I  cannot  harm  ; 
And  on  this  wise  I  wish  thee  too  to  act  ; 

1  These  commonly  consisted  of  milk    honey,  and  oil.      romp. 
896. 


ELECTRA 

While  yet  I  grant  that  what  thou  think'st  is  just, 

Not  what  I  say.     But  if  I  wish  to  live 

In  freedom,  I  must  bow  to  those  that  rule. 

Elec.  Strange  is  it  thou,  who  callest  such  a  man 
Thy  father,  should'st  forget  him,  and  should'st  care 
For  such  a  mother.     All  this  good  advice 
Thou  giv'st  to  me  is  not  thine  own  but  hers, 
Thy  lesson  learnt  by  rote.     Take  then  thy  choice  ; 
Or  thou  hast  lost  thy  reason,  or,  if  sane, 
Thou  hast  no  memory  of  thy  dearest  friends, 
Who  said'st  but  now,  that,  had'st  thou  strength  enough, 
Thou  would'st  make  plain  the  hate  thou  hast  for  them  ; 
And  yet  when  I  am  working  to  avenge 
Thy  father,  wilt  not  join  me,  and  would'st  fain 
Turn  me  aside  from  action.     Is  there  not 
In  this,  besides  all  else,  a  coward's  heart  ? 
Tell  me  (yea,  hear)  what  profit  should  I  have 
Were  I  to  cease  from  tears  ?     Do  I  not  live  ? 
In  evil  case  I  own,  and  yet  for  me 
Enough  ;  and  these  I  vex,  and  so  I  give 
Due  honour  to  the  dead, — if  they  can  be 
Or  pleased  or  thankful.     Thou,  with  that  thy  hate, 
Hatest  in  words,  and  yet  in  act  dost  live 
In  friendship  with  thy  father's  murderers. 
Never  would  I,  no,  not  though  one  should  bring 
To  me  the  gifts  which  thou  rejoicest  in, 
Give  way  to  them.     No  !     Let  thy  board  be  spread 
With  dainties  rich,  and  let  thy  life  be  full ; 
*My  only  food  be  this,  to  spare  myself 
What  most  would  pain.     I  covet  not  thy  place, 
Nor,  wert  thou  wise,  would'st  thou.     But,  as  it  is, 
When  thou  might'st  be  the  child  of  noblest  father, 
Choose  to  be  called  thy  mother's.     Thus  shalt  thou 
To  most  men  seem  contemptible  and  base, 
Forsaking  thy  dead  father  and  thy  friends. 

Chor.  By  all  the  Gods,  I  pray  thce,  cease  from  wrath  ; 
203 


E  L  E  C  T  R  A 

In  both  your  words,  some  profit  may  be  found, 
If  thou  from  her  would'st  learn,  and  she  from  thee. 

Chrys.  I,  O  my  friends,  am  somewhat  used  to  hear 
Her  words  ;  nor  had  I  now  recurred  to  them, 
But  that  I  heard  of  evil  drawing  near, 
Which  soon  shall  stop  her  long  protracted  wails. 

Elec.  Tell  then  this  dreadful  evil.     Hast  thou  aught 
To  tell  me  more  than  what  I  suffer  now, 
I  will  resist  no  longer. 

Chrys.  All  I  know 

Myself,  I  '11  tell  thee  ;  for  their  purpose  is, 
Unless  thou  ceasest  from  thy  wailings  loud, 
To  send  thee  where  thou  never  more  shalt  see 
The  light  of  day,  but  in.  a  dungeon  cave, 
Immured  alive,  beyond  our  country's  bounds, 
Shalt  sing  thy  song  of  sorrow.     Take  good  heed, 
And  do  not,  when  thou  sufterest,  all  too  late, 
Cast  then  the  blame  on  me.     Be  wise  in  time. 

Elec.  And  is  it  thus  they  have  decreed  to  treat  me  ? 

Chrys.  Beyond  all  doubt,  when  home  ^Egisthos  comes. 

Elec.  If  this  be  all,  would  God  he  may  come  soon. 

Chrys.  What  evil  prayer  is  this,  poor  sister  mine  ? 

Elec.  That  he  may  come,  if  this  his  purpose  be.       9M 

Chrys.  What  would'st  thou  suffer  ?    Whither  turn  thy 
thoughts  ? 

Elec.  To  flee  as  far  as  may  be  from  you  all. 

Chrys.  Hast  thou  no  care  for  this  thy  present  life  ? 

Elec.  A  goodly  life  for  men  to  wonder  at  ! 

Chrys.  So  might  it  be,  if  thou  would'st  wisdom  learn. 

Elec.  Teach  me  no  baseness  to  the  friends  I  love. 

Chrys.  1  teach  not  that,  yet  kings  must  be  obeyed. 

Elec.  Fawn  as  thou  wilt  ;  thy  fashion  is  not  mine. 

Chrys.  Yet  is  it  well  through  rashness  not  to  fall. 

Elec.  If  fail  we  must,  we  '11  fall  our  father  helping. 

Chrys.  Our  father,  so  I  deem,  will  pardon  this.         40° 

Eltc.  These  words  will  win  due  praises  from  the  vile. 
*o4 


ELECTRA 

Chrys.  Wilt  thou  not  yield  and  hearken  to  my  words  ? 

Elec.  Not  so  ;  ne'er  may  I  be  so  reft  of  sense. 

Chrys.  I  then  will  go  the  way  that  I  was  sent. 

Elec.  And  whither  goest  thou  ?    Whose  the  gifts  thou 
bring'st  ? 

Chrys.  Mother  to  father  bids  me  pour  libations. 

Elec.  How  say'st  thou  ?    To  the  man  whom  most  she 
hates  ? 

Chryt.  "The   man   she  slew" — 'Tis  that  thou   fain 
would'st  say. 

Elec.  Who  gave  this  counsel  ?  Who  has  this  approved  ? 

Chrys.  'Tis,  as  I  think,  some  terror  of  the  night.       41° 

Elec.  Gods  of  my  fathers !     Be  ye  with  me  now  ! 

Chrys.  And  does  this  terror  give  thee  confidence  ? 

Elec.  If  thou  would'st  tell  the  vision,  I  should  know 

Chrys.  I  know  it  not,  but  just  in  briefest  tale. 

Elec.  Ah,  tell  me  that;  brief  words  ere  now  have  laid 
Men  low  in  dust,  and  raised  them  up  again. 

Ckrys.  A  rumour  runs  that  she  our  father's  presence 
(Yes,  thine  and  mine)  a  second  time  to  light 
Saw  coming,  and  he  stood  upon  the  hearth, 
And  took  the  sceptre  which  he  bore  of  old,1 
Which  now  ^Egisthos  bears,  and  fixed  it  there, 
And  from  it  sprang  a  sucker  fresh  and  strong, 
And  all  Mykenae  rested  in  its  shade. 
This  tale  I  heard  from  some  one  who  was  near 
When  she  declared  her  vision  to  the  Sun  ; 2 
But  more  than  this  I  heard  not,  save  that  she 
Now  sends  me  hither  through  that  fright  of  hers. 

[ELECTRA,  wild  and  impassioned,  is  about  to  speak. 
And  now  by  all  the  Gods  of  kith  and  kin, 

1  The  words  of  Homer  (Iliad,  ii.  101)  had  given  a  special  fame 
and  import  to  the  sceptre  of  Agamemnon. 

2  The  prayer  is  told  to  the  Sun,  as  the  great  dispeller  of  the 
dreams  of  darkness.     Comp.  637.     There  is,  perhaps,  also  a  special 
reference  to  the  local  worship  of  the  Sun  at  Argos.     An  altar  to  the 
Sun-God,  Helios,  stood  on  the  way  from  Argos  to  Mykenae. 

205 


ELECTRA 

I  pray  thec,  hearken  to  me  ;  do  not  fall 

Through  lack  of  counsel ;  if  thou  turn'st  me  back, 

In  trouble  sore  thou  'It  seek  me  yet  again.  *** 

Elet.  Ah,  sister  dear,  of  what  thy  hands  do  bear 
Put  nothing  on  the  tomb  ;  for  nature's  law 
Forbids  it  as  unholy  thus  to  bring 
Funereal  offerings,  lustral  waters  pour, 
From  wife  unfriendly,  on  a  father's  grave. 
*No  !  cast  them  to  the  rivers,  hide  them  deep 
In  dust  where  never  aught  of  them  shall  come 
To  where  my  father  sleeps ;  but  when  she  dies, 
Let  them  be  stored  below  as  gifts  for  her. 
For,  surely,  were  she  not  the  boldest  found 
Among  all  women,  ne'er  would  she  have  poured 
These  hateful  offerings  o'er  the  man  she  slew.  **° 

Think,  if  the  dead  who  sleeps  in  yonder  tomb 
Will  welcome  kindly  gifts  like  these  from  her, 
By  whom,  most  foully  slain  as  hated  foe, 
His  feet  and  hands  were  lopped  off  shamefully, 
Who  wiped  upon  his  head  the  blood-stained  knife, 
As  if  to  purge  the  guilt.1     And  dost  thou  think 
To  bring  these  gifts  redeeming  her  from  guilt  ? 
Not  so.     Nay,  put  them  by,  and  then  do  thou, 
Cutting  the  highest  locks  that  crown  thy  head, 
Yea,  and  mine  also,  poor  although  I  be, 
(Small  offering,  yet  'tis  all  the  store  I  have,) 
Give  to  him,  yes,  this  lock,  untrimmed,  unmeet 
For  suppliant's  vow,  and  this  my  girdle,  decked 
With  no  gay  fringe.     And  ask  thou,  falling  low, 
That  he  will  come  to  us  in  mood  of  grace, 
From  out  the  earth,  a  helper  'gainst  our  foes, 
And  that  his  son,  Orestes,  with  a  hand 

1  The  words  bring  before  us  a  curious  phase  of  superstition.  To 
mutilate  the  corpse  of  a  murdered  man  was  to  deprive  him  of  the 
power  to  take  vengeance.  To  wipe  the  murderous  weapon  on  his 
hair  was  not  merely  a  symbol,  but  a  charm.  His  blood  was  to  be 
on  his  own  head. 

206 


ELECTRA 

Victorious,  trample  upon  those  his  foes, 

In  fullest  life  returning,  so  that  we 

Hereafter  may  with  gifts  more  bounteous  come 

To  deck  his  grave  than  those  we  offer  now. 

I  think,  for  one,  I  surely  think  that  he 

Has  sent  these  dark,  unsightly  dreams  to  her  ; 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  my  sister,  come 

And  do  this  service,  for  thyself  and  me, 

Nor  less  for  him,  of  all  men  most  beloved, 

Our  father,  now  in  Hades  slumbering. 

Chor.  The  maiden  speaks  with  filial  reverence  ; 
And  thou,  dear  friend,  if  thou  art  wise,  wilt  do 
What  so  she  counsels. 

C/.rys.  I  will  do  it  then. 

*It  is  not  meet  with  two  to  wrangle  still, 
Debating  of  the  right,  but  haste  and  act. 
But  if  I  thus  essay  this  enterprise, 
By  all  the  Gods,  my  friends,  be  hushed  and  still  ; 
For  if  my  mother  hears  it,  well  I  trow 
That  what  I  dare  will  end  full  bitterly. 

STROPHE 

Chor.  If  wisdom  fail  me  not, 
As  seer  misled  by  doubtful  auguries, 

And  wanting  counsel  wise, 
She  comes,  true  augur  with  foreshadowing  tread, 

Vengeance,  with  hands  that  bear 

The  might  of  righteousness  : 
She  comes,  my  child,  full  soon,  in  hot  pursuit : 
And  through  my  veins  there  springs  a  courage  new, 

Hearing  but  now  these  dreams 

That  come  with  favouring  gale  ; 
For  he,  thy  father,  King  of  all  Hellenes, 

Will  not  forget  for  aye, 
Ncr  will  that  hatchet  with  its  double  edge, 

Wrought  out  in  bronze  of  old, 


ELECTRA 

Which  laid  him  low  in  death 
With  vilest  contumely. 

ANTISTROPHE 

And  She  shall  also  come, 
Dread  form,  with  many  a  foot,  and  many  a  hand, 

Erinnyes  shod  with  brass, 
Who  lieth  still  in  ambush  terrible  : 

For  there  has  come  to  those 

For  whom  it  was  not  right, 
The  hot  embrace  of  marriage  steeped  in  blood, 
Of  evil  omen,  bed  and  bride  alike  ; 

But,  above  all,  this  thought 

Fills  heart  and  soul,  that  ne'er 
The  boding  sign  will  come  unblamed  to  those 

Who  did  the  deed,  or  shared  ; 
Lo  !  men  can  find  no  prophecies  in  dreams. 

Nor  yet  in  words  divine, 

Unless  it  gain  its  goal, 

This  vision  of  the  night. 

EPODB 

Ah,  in  the  olden  time, 
Thou  chariot  race  of  Pelops,  perilous, 
How  did'st  thou  come  to  this  our  father-land 

In  long-enduring  gloom  ? 
For  since  he  slept  beneath  the  waters  deep, 

Poor  Myrtilos,1  who  fell, 
Cast  headlong  from  the  chariot  bright  with  gold, 

Both  root  and  branch  destroyed, 

1  Here,  as  in  the  case  of  "  Itys.  Itys"  (1.  148),  we  have  a  reference 
to  myths,  which  Sophocles  had  taken  as  the  subjects  of  his  own 
dramas.  The  story  of  Myrtilos  was  briefly,  that  he  enabled  Pelops 
to  win  the  chariot-race  against  CEnomaos,  and  so  to  gain  his 
daughter  Hipppdameia  and  become  king  of  Pisa  ;  that  then  Pelops, 
unwilling  to  give  him  his  reward,  or  suspecting  him  of  loving 
Hippodameia,  threw  him  headlong  from  Cape  Geraestos.  Myrtilos, 
as  he  died,  u'tere-1  a  curse  on  Pelops.  and  this  was  the  starting-point 
of  all  the  evils  of  his  house. 

108 


ELECTRA 

*There  has  not  left  our  master's  lordly  house 
All  shame  and  ignominy. 

Enter  CLYTEMNESTRA,/O//C«'^  by  an  Attendant. 
Clytem.  Thou,  as  it  seems,  dost  take  thine  ease  abroad, 
jEgisthos  being  absent,  who  has  charged 
That  thou  should'st  not,  being  seen  without  the  gates, 
Disgrace  thy  friends.      But  now,  since  he  is  gone, 
For  me  thou  little  carest.     Yea,  thou  say'st 
Full  many  a  time  to  many  men,  that  I 
Am  over-bold,  and  rule  defying  right, 
Insulting  thee  and  thine.     But  I  disclaim 
All  insult,  and  but  speak  of  thee  the  ill 
I  hear  so  often  from  thee.     Evermore, 
Thy  father,  and  nought  else,  is  thy  pretext ; 
As  that  he  died  by  me  ....  By  me  ?     Right  well 
I  know  'tis  true.     That  deed  deny  I  not, 
For  Justice  seized  him,  'twas  not  I  alone  ; 
And  thou  should'st  aid  her,  wert  thou  wise  of  heart, 
Since  that  thy  father,  whom  thou  mournest  still, 
Alone  of  all  the  Hellenes  had  the  heart 
To  sacrifice  thy  sister  to  the  Gods, 
Although,  I  trow,  his  toil  was  less  than  mine, 
And  little  knew  he  of  my  travail-pangs. 
And  now,  I  ask  thee,  tell  me  for  whose  sake 
He  slew  her  ?     "  For  the  Argives,"  sayest  thou  ? 
They  had  no  right  to  seek  my  daughter's  death  ; 
But  if  he  killed  mine  for  another's  sake, 
His  brother  Menelaos',  should  he  not 
Be  righteously  requited  ?     Had  not  he 
Two  sons,1  who  it  was  fit  should  die  far  more  M0 

Than  this  my  daughter,  seeing  they  were  born 
Of  father  and  of  mother  for  whose  sake 
The  armament  went  forth  ?     Or  was  it  so 

i  In  Homer  (Iliad,  iii.  175;  Odyss.  iv.  112),  Helen  appears  as 

bearing  one  child  only,  Hermione,  to  Menelaos.  Sophocles  follows 
a  later  form  ol  the  legend. 

i                                              209  o 


ELECTRA 

That  Hades  had  a  special  lust  to  feast 

Upon  my  children  rather  than  on  hers  ? 

Or  was  it  that  her  father  cast  aside, 

Cold-blooded,  hard,  all  yearning  for  my  child, 

Yet  cared  for  Menelaos?     Was  he  not 

In  this  a  reckless  father  found,  and  base  ? 

I  answer,  Yes,  though  thou  refuse  assent : 

And  she  that  died  would  say  it,  could  she  speak. 

I  then  feel  no  remorse  for  what  is  done ; 

But  if  I  seem  to  thee  as  base  in  heart, 

*First  judge  thou  right,  then  blame  thy  next  of  kin. 

Elec.  This  time,  at  least,  thou  wilt  not  say  that  I, 
Being  first  to  vex,  then  heard  these  words  from  thee ; 
But,  if  thou  giv'st  me  leave,  I  fain  would  plead 
For  him  who  died,  and  for  my  sister  too. 

Clytem.  I  give  thee  leave.      Had'st  thou  thus  spoken 

always, 
To  list  to  thee  had  given  me  less  annoy. 

Elec.  Thus  speak  I  then  to  thee — Thou  say'st  thy  hand 
Did  slay  my  father!     Is  there  aught  of  shame 
Than  this  more  shameful,  whether  thou  can'st  urge, 
Or  not,  the  plea  of  justice?     But  I  say 
Thou  did'st  not  justly  slay  him,  but  wast  led 
By  vile  suggestion  of  the  coward  base 
Who  now  lives  with  thee.     Next,  I  pray  thee,  ask 
The  huntress  Artemis  what  guilt  restrained 
The  many  winds  in  Aulis;  or  my  voice 
Shall  tell  thee ;  for  from  her  thou  may'st  not  learn. 
My  father  once,  as  I  have  heard  the  tale, 
Taking  his  sport  within  the  holy  grove 
The  Goddess  calls  her  own,  had  raised  a  deer, 
Dappled,  and  antlered,  and  in  careless  mood 
Boasts  loudly  at  the  death.1     And  therefore  she, 
Leto's  fair  daughter,  in  her  wrath  detained 

1  As  the  legend  ran.  the  special  form  of  the  boast  was,  that  hf 
bad  surpassed  Artemis  in  skill  of  chase. 

210 


E  L  E  C  T  R  A 

The  Achaeans  that  my  father  might  perforce 

Slay  his  own  daughter,  in  the  balance  weighcc 

Against  that  quarry.     Thus  the  matter  stood 

As  to  that  offering.     Other  means  were  none 

To  free  the  army,  or  for  homeward  voyage, 

Or  yet  for  Ilion.     Therefore  sore  constrained 

And  struggling,  hardly  at  the  last  he  wrought 

The  act  of  sacrifice,  and  not  through  love 

For  Menelaos.     But  had  it  been  so, 

Had  he  done  this  with  wish  to  profit  him, 

(For  I  will  take  thy  premiss,)  ought  he  then 

To  die  by  thine  hand?     Why,  what  right  is  this? 

See  to  it,  giving  men  a  law  like  this, 

If  thou  but  cause  fresh  trouble  to  thyself, 

And  change  of  purpose  bringing  late  regret ; 

For,  should  we  evermore  take  blood  for  blood, 

Thou  would'st  fall  first,  if  thou  did'st  get  thy  due. 

See  to  it  well,  lest  thus  thy  vain  pretence 

Be  found  as  nought.     For  tell  me,  if  thou  wilt, 

In  recompense  for  what  dost  thou  now  do 

Deed  of  all  deeds  most  shameful,  who  dost  sleep 

With  that  red-handed  felon  who  with  thee 

Murdered  my  father,  and  to  him  dost  bear 

New  children,  while  thou  easiest  out  from  thee 

Those  born  before,  right  seed  of  righteous  sire  ? 

How  shall  I  praise  these  deeds?  or  wilt  thou  say 

That  thus  thou  takest  vengeance  for  thy  child? 

Basely  enough,  if  thou  should'st  say  it.     Lo  ! 

It  is  not  gooc!  to  wed  an  enemy, 

E'en  in  a  daughter's  cause.     But  since  to  speak 

A  word  of  counsel  is  not  granted  us, 

Though  thou  dost  love  to  speak  all  words  of  ill, 

That  "  we  revile  a  mother  ; " — yet  I  look 

On  thee  as  more  my  mistress  than  my  mother, 

Living  a  woeful  life,  by  many  ills 

Encompassed  which  proceed  from  thee,  and  him, 


ELECTRA 

The  partner  of  thy  guilt.      That  other  one, 
My  poor  Orestes,  hardly  'scaped  from  thee, 
Drags  on  a  weary  life.     Full  oft  hast  thou 
Charged  me  with  rearing  him  to  come  at  last 
A  minister  of  vengeance;  and  I  own, 
Had  I  but  strength,  be  sure  of  this,  'twere  done. 
For  this  then,  even  this,  proclaim  aloud 
To  all  men,  as  thou  wilt,  that  I  am  base, 
Or  foul  of  speech,  or  full  of  shamelessness : 
For  if  I  be  with  such  things  conversant, 
Then  to  thy  breeding  I  bring  no  disgrace. 

Chor.  I  see  she  breathes  out  rage — but  whether  right 
Be  on  her  side,  for  this  no  care  I  see.  61° 

C/ytem.  And  why  should  I  give  heed  to  one  like  her, 
Who  thus  her  mother  scorns  i     And  at  her  age  ! 
Does  she  not  seem  to  thee  as  one  prepared 
To  go  all  lengths,  and  feel  no  touch  of  shame? 

Elec.  Know  well,  I  do  feel  shame  for  all  I  do, 
Though  thou  think'st  otherwise,  and  well  I  know 
I  do  things  startling,  most  unmeet  for  me  ; 
But  thy  fixed  hate  and  these  thy  deeds  perforce 
Constrain  me  still  to  do  them.     Still  it  holds, 
Base  deeds  by  base  are  learnt  and  perfected. 

C/ytem.  Thou  shameless  creature  !     I  then,  and  my 

words, 
And  my  deeds  too,  they  make  thee  prate  too  much. 

Elec.  Thou  sayest  it,  not  I  ;  for  thou  dost  do 
The  deed  :  and  deeds  will  find  their  fitting  words. 

C/ytem.  Now  by  my  mistress,  Artemis,  I  swtar, 
For  this  thy  daring  thou  shalt  pay  in  full 
When  back  vEgisthos  comes. 

Elec.  Now  look  you  there  ! 

Thou  'rt  swayed  by  fury,  though  thou  gav'st  me  leave 
To  speak  whate'er  I  would,  and  can'st  not  learn 
To  play  a  listener's  part  ! 

Clytem.  And  wilt  thou  not 

212 


ELECTRA 

Give  leave  to  do  my  rites  with  clamour  hushed, 
Seeing  that  I  let  thee  speak  thy  whole  mind  out? 

Elec.  I  let  thee,  bid  thee,  do  them.     Charge  not  thou 
My  lips  with  folly.     Now,  I  speak  no  more 

{Retires  to  the  back  of  the  stage. 

Clytem.  Do  thou  then,  my  attendant,  bring  the  gifts 
Of  many  fruits,  that  I  may  breathe  my  prayers 
To  this  our  King  for  respite  from  the  fears 
Which  now  possess  me.     Hear,  O  Phcebos,  Thou 
Our  true  deliverer,  hear  my  secret  speech  ; 
For  this  my  prayer  is  not  among  my  friends, 
Nor  is  it  fit  to  bring  it  all  to  light, 
While  she  is  near  me  still,  lest  in  her  mood 
Of  envy,  and  with  cry  of  many  tongues, 
She  spread  the  vain  report  through  all  the  town  ; 
But  hear  thou  me  ;  for  thus  I  make  my  prayer ; 
The  vision  which  I  looked  on  in  the  night 
Of  doubtful  dreams,  grant  me,  Lykeian  king, 
If  they  are  good,  their  quick  accomplishment ; 
If  adverse,  send  them  on  mine  adversaries ; 
And  if  there  be  that  wish,  by  craft  and  guile, 
To  hurl  me  from  the  wealth  I  now  enjoy, 
Suffer  them  not,  but  ever  let  me  live 
With  life  unharmed,  and  sway  the  Atreidae's  house, 
With  these  their  sceptres,  dwelling  with  the  friends 
Whom  now  I  dwell  with,  passing  prosperous  days 
With  all  my  children,  who  nor  hatred  bring 
Nor  bitter  sorrow.     This,  Lykeian  king, 
Apollo,  hear  all  pitiful,  and  grant 
To  all  of  us,  as  we  implore  thee  now  ; 
All  else,  though  I  be  silent,  I  will  deem 
Thou,  being  a  God,  dost  know.     One  well  may  think 
The  sons  of  Zeus  see  all  things. 

Enter  tie  Attendant  of  ORESTES. 
Attend.  Might  I  know, 


ELECTRA 

Ye  ladies,  if  these  dwellings  that  I  see 
Are  those  of  King  ^gisthos  ? 

Chor.  Even  so ! 

Thou  guessest  well,  O  stranger. 

Attend.  Am  I  right 

In  once  more  guessing  that  his  wife  stands  here  ? 
For  sure  her  mien  bespeaks  her  sovereignty. 

Chor.   Right,  more  than  ever.    Lo,  she  standeth  there. 

Attend,  All  hail,  O  queen  ;  I  bring  thee  tidings  good, 
Thee  and  ^Egisthos  also,  from  a  friend. 

Clytem.  I  hail  the  omen  ;  but  I  fain  would  know 
This  first,  what  man  has  sent  thee  here  to  us. 

Attend.  The  Phokian  Phanoteus,  discharging  thus    * 
A  weighty  task. 

Clytem.  And  what  its  nature,  pray  ? 

Tell  me,  O  stranger;  for  right  well  I  know 
Thou  from  a  friend  wilt  bring  us  friendly  words. 

Attend.  Orestes.  .  .  .  He  is  dead.   That  word  tells  all. 

Elec.  O  wretched  me  !     This  day  I  perish  too. 

Clytem.   What   say'st    thou,  stranger  ?     What  ?  .  . 
Heed  not  her  words. 

Attend.  Orestes.  .  .  .   He  is  dead — I  say  again. 

Elec.  Ah  me  !     I  perish  utterly.     All's  lost. 

Clytem.  Look  thou  to  what  concerns  thee.     But  do 
thou,  \To  Attendant  of  ORESTES.] 

O  stranger,  tell  us  truly  how  he  died. 

Attend.  For  this  end  was  I  sent ;  and  I  will  tell        M" 
All  as  it  happened.     He  then  journeyed  forth 
To  those  great  games  which  Hellas  counts  her  pride, 
To  join  the  Delphic  contests  ;'  and  he  heard 
The  herald's  voice,  with  loud  and  clear  command, 
Proclaim,  as  coming  first,  the  chariot  race  : 

1  Histoiically  there  is  an  anachronism  here.  The  earlier  contests 
at  Delphi  were  confined  to  music,  and  the  dale  given  for  the  first 
Pythian  games  is,  OL  47,  2  (B.C.  586*.  So,  too,  the  four-horsed 
chariot,  and  the  presence  of  Greeks  trom  Libya,  belong  to  the  poet's 
own  time  rather  than  to  the  Homeric  period. 


ELECTRA 

And  so  he  entered  radiant,  every  eye 

Admiring  as  he  passed.     And  in  the  race 

He  equalled  all  the  promise  of  his  form 

In  those  his  rounds,  and  so  with  noblest  prize 

Of  conquest  left  the  ground.      And,  summing  up 

In  fewest  words  what  many  scarce  could  tell, 

I  know  of  none  in  strength  and  act  like  him  ; 

But  one  thing  know,  for  having  won  the  prize 

In  all  the  five-fold  forms  of  race  which  they,1 

The  umpires,  had  proclaimed  for  those  that  ran 

The  ground's  whole  length  and  back,  he  then  was  hailed, 

Proclaimed  an  Argive,  and  his  name  Orestes, 

His  son  who  once  led  Hellas'  glorious  host, 

The  mighty  Agamemnon.     So  far  well. 

But  when  a  God  will  injure,  none  can  'scape, 

Strong  though  he  be.     For  lo  !  another  day, 

When,  as  the  sun  was  rising,  came  the  race 

Swift-footed,  of  the  chariot  and  the  horse, 

He  entered  there,  with  many  charioteers  ; 

One  an  Achaean,  one  from  Sparta,  two 

From  Libya,  who  with  four-horsed  chariots  came, 

And  he  with  these,  with  swift  Thessalian  mares, 

Came  as  the  fifth  ;  a  sixth  with  bright  bay  colts 

Came  from  ^Etolia  ;  and  the  seventh  was  born 

In  far  Magnesia  ;  and  the  eighth,  by  race 

An  JEman,  with  white  horses;  and  the  ninth 

From  Athens  came,  the  city  built  of  God  ; 

Last,  a  Boeotian,  tenth  in  order,  came, 

And  made  the  list  complete.2     And  so  they  stood — 

1  The  order  of  the  Delphic  games  was  as  follows  :— Early  in  the 
morning  the  umpires  (Hellanodikas)  sent  the  herald  to  proclaim 
their  opening.  They  began  with  foot  races,  long  and  short ;  about 
noon  came  the  pentathlon  (leaping,  foot-race,  discus,  spear- throw- 
ing, wrestling),  later  the  chariot-race.  The  "  five-fold  forms  of 
race"  (if  the  reading  be  correct)  refer  to  variations  in  the  rules  or 
length  of  the  course,  not  to  the  pentathlon,  strictly  so  called. 

-  The  choice  of  nations  mentioned  by  the  poet  was  doubtless  far 
frum  bring  capricious.  Some  are  r:amed  (the  Achaean,  Magnesian, 


ELECTRA 

When  the  appointed  umpires  fixed  by  lot, 

And  placed  the  cars  in  order ;  and  with  sound 

Of  brazen  trump  they  started.     Cheering  all 

Their  steeds  at  once,  they  shook  the  reins,  and  then 

The  course  was  filled  with  all  the  clash  and  din 

Of  rattling  chariots,  and  the  dust  rose  high; 

And  all  commingled,  sparing  not  the  goad, 

That  each  might  pass  his  neighbour's  axle-trees, 

And  horses'  hot,  hard  breathings ;  for  their  backs 

And  chariot-wheels  were  white  with  foam,  and  still 

The  breath  of  horses  smote  them;  and  he,  come 

Just  where  the  last  stone  marks  the  course's  goal,          rx 

Turning  the  corner  sharp,  and,  letting  go 

The  right-hand  trace-horse,  pulled  the  nearer  in  ; 

And  so  at  first  the  chariots  keep  their  course  ; 

But  then  the  unbroken  colts  the  ^Enian  owned 

Rush  at  full  speed,  and,  turning  headlong  back, 

Just  as  they  closed  their  sixth  round  or  their  seventh, 

Dash  their  heads  right  against  the  chariot  wheels 

Of  those  who  came  from  Barke.     And  from  thence, 

From  that  one  shock,  each  on  the  other  crashed, 

They  fell  o'erturned,  and  Crissa's  spacious  plain 

Was  filled  with  wreck  of  chariots.     Then  the  man 

From  Athens,  skilled  and  wily  charioteer, 

Seeing  the  mischief,  turns  his  steeds  aside, 

At  anchor  rides,  and  leaves  the  whirling  surge 

Of  man  and  horse  thus  raging.     Last  of  all, 

Keeping  his  steeds  back,  waiting  for  the  end, 

Orestes  came.     And  when  he  sees  him  left, 

His  only  rival,  then,  with  shaken  rein, 

Urging  his  colts,  he  follows,  and  they  twain 

Drove  onward  both  together,  by  a  head, 

^Enian,  Thessalian,  Boeotian,  Argive)as  conspicuous  in  the  Amphic- 
tyonic  league.  The  Spartan,  as  the  rival  of  the  Acha-an,  though 
having  a  more  favourable  start,  falls  into  the  background.  The 
Libyans  and  ^".tolians  are  named  as  famous  for  their  chariot-races, 
and  so  enhancing  the  glory  of  the  Athenian  victor. 
216 


E  L  K  C  T  R  A 

Now  this,  now  that,  their  chariots  gaining  ground  ; 

And  all  the  other  rounds  in  safety  passed. 

Upright  in  upright  chariot  still  he  stood, 

Ill-starred  one ;  then  the  left  rein  letting  loose 

Just  as  his  horse  was  turning,  unawares 

He  strikes  the  furthest  pillar,  breaks  the  spokes 

Right  at  his  axle's  centre,  and  slips  down 

From  out  his  chariot,  and  is  dragged  along, 

With  reins  dissevered.     And,  when  thus  he  fell, 

His  colts  tore  headlong  to  the  ground's  mid-space : 

And  when  the  host  beheld  him  fallen  thus 

From  off  the  chariot,  they  bewailed  him  sore, 

So  young,  so  noble,  so  unfortunate, 

Now  hurled  upon  the  ground,  and  now  his  limbs 

To  heaven  exposing.     Then  the  charioteers 

Full  hardly  keeping  back  the  rush  of  steeds, 

Freed  the  poor  corpse  so  bloody,  that  not  one 

Of  all  his  friends  would  know  him  ;  and  his  body 

They  burnt  upon  the  pyre  ;  and  now  they  bear, 

The  chosen  of  the  Phokians  that  have  come, 

In  a  poor  urn  of  bronze,  a  mighty  form 

Reduced  to  these  sad  ashes,  that  for  him 

May  be  a  tomb  within  his  fatherland.  T8° 

Such  is  my  tale,  full  sad,  I  trow,  to  hear, 

But  unto  those  who  saw  it  as  we  saw, 

The  greatest  of  all  evils  I  have  known. 

Ckor.  Woe,  woe !   So  perish,  root  and  branch,  it  seems, 
The  race  of  those  our  lords  of  long  ago. 

Cistern.  O  Zeus !  What  means  this  .  .  .  Shall  I  say, 

good  news  ? 

Or  fearful,  yet  most  gainful  ?     Still  'tis  sad 
If  by  my  sorrows  I  must  save  my  life. 

Attend.  Why  does  my  tale,  O  queen,  thus  trouble  thee  ? 

C/ytem.  Wondrous  and  strange  the  force  of  motherhood  ! 
Though  wronged,  a  mother  cannot  hate  her  children.  [77° 

Attend.  We  then,  it  seems,  are  come  to  thee  in  vain. 


ELECTRA 

Clytem.  Nay,  not  in  vain.     How  could  it  be  in  vain  ? 
Since  thou  bring'st  proofs  that  he  is  dead,  who,  born 
Child  of  my  heart,  from  breasts  that  gave  him  suck 
Then  turned  aside,  and  dwelt  on  foreign  soil 
In  banishment  ;  and  since  he  left  our  land 
Ne'er  came  to  see  me,  but  with  dreadful  words, 
His  father's  death  still  casting  upon  me, 
Spake  out  his  threats ;  so  that  nor  day  nor  night 
I  knew  sweet  sleep,  but  still  the  sway  of  Time 
Led  on  my  life,  as  one  condemned  to  death. 
But  now,  for  lo  !  this  day  has  stopped  all  fear 
From  her  and  him,  for  she  was  with  me  still, 
The  greater  mischief,  sucking  out  my  life, 
My  very  heart's  blood  :  now,  for  all  her  threats, 
We  shall  live  on  and  pass  our  days  in  peace. 

Elec.  Ah,  wretched  me  !   for  now  I  can  but  mourn, 
Orestes,  at  thine  evil  case,  thus  dying, 
By  this  thy  mother  scorned.     Can  this  be  well  ? 

Clytem.  Not  so  with  thee.     For  him  what  is  is  well. 

Elec.  Hear  this,  thou  Power,  avenging  him  who  died  ! 

Clytem.   Right  well  she  heard,  and  what  she  heard  hath 
wrought. 

Elec.  Heapscoffon  scoff;  thou'rt  fortune's  darling  now. 

Clytem.  Thou  and  Orestes,  will  ye  check  me  now? 

Elec.  We,  we  are  checked,  and  far  from  checking  thee. 

Clytem.  [TV  Attendant.]  Thou  would'st  deserve  much 

praise,  if  thou  hast  checked, 
O  stranger,  that  loud  cry  of  many  tongues. 

Attend.  And  may  I  then  depart,  my  task  being  done  : 

Clytem.  Nay,  nay  ;  thou  would'st  not  then  fare  worthily 
Of  me,  or  of  the  friend  that  sent  thee  here  ; 
Come  in,  and  leave  this  girl  to  cry  without, 
And  wail  her  own  misfortunes  and  her  friends'. 

[Exeunt  CLYTEMNESTRA  and  Attendant. 

Elec.  And  does  she  seem  to  you,  that  hateful  one, 
As  one  who  grieves  in  bitter  pain  of  heatt, 
Ml 


R  L  E  C  T  R  A 

To  wail  and  weep  full  sorely  for  her  son 

Who  died  so  sadly  ?     Nay,  (ah,  wretched  me  !) 

She  wends  her  way  exulting.     Ah,  Orestes  ! 

Dear  brother,  in  thy  death  thou  slayest  me  ; 

For  thou  art  gone,  bereaving  my  poor  heart 

Of  all  the  little  hope  that  yet  remained,  no 

That  thou  would'st  come,  a  living  minister 

Of  vengeance  for  thy  father  and  for  me, 

Me  miserable.     Now  whither  shall  I  turn  ? 

For  now  I  am  indeed  alone,  bereaved 

Of  thee  and  of  my  father.     Now  once  more 

I  must  live  on  in  bondage  unto  those 

Of  all  mankind  most  hateful  far  to  me, 

My  father's  murderers.     Goes  it  well  with  me? 

But  I  at  least  through  all  the  time  to  come 

VVill  not  dwell  with  them,  but  at  this  their  gate, 

All  reckless,  friendless,  waste  away  my  life  ; 

And  then,  if  one  of  those  that  dwell  within 

Is  wroth  with  this,  why,  let  him  slay  me  straight  ;       wo 

I  '11  thank  him,  if  he  kill  me  ;  should  I  live 

There  is  but  sorrow  ;  wish  for  life  is  none. 

Cbor.  Where  then  the  bolts  of  Zeus, 
And  where  the  glorious  Sun, 
If,  seeing  deeds  like  these, 
They  hold  their  peace,  and  hide  ? 

Elec,  [Sobbing.]  Alas,  ah  me,  ah  woe  ! 

Cbor.  My  child,  why  weepest  thou  ? 

Elec.  Fie  on  it,  fie,  .... 

Cbor.  Hush,  hush,  be  not  too  bold. 

Elec.  Thou  wilt  but  break  my  heart. 

Chor.  What  meanest  thou  r 

Elec.  If  thou  suggestest  any  hope  from  those 
So  clearly  gone  to  Hades,  then  on  me, 
Wasting  with  sorrow,  thou  wilt  trample  more. 

Chor.  And  yet  I  know  that  King  Amphiaraos1 

1  Amphiaraos,  seer  as  well  as  warrior,  knowing  by  bis  art  what 
219 


ELECTRA 

Was  taken  in  the  toils  of  golden  snare, 

By  woman's  craft,  and  now  below  the  earth  .... 

Elec.  [Sobbing.]  Ah  me  !   ah  me  !  •» 

Chor.  He  reigns  in  fullest  life. 

Elec.  Fie  on  it,  fie. 

Chor.  Yes,  fie  indeed  ;  for  she, 

Fell  traitress  .... 

Elec.  Perished,  you  would  say  ? 

Chor.  E'en  so. 

Elec.  I  know,  I  know  it.     One  was  left  to  care1 
For  him  who  suffered.     None  is  left  to  roe  ; 
For  he  who  yet  remained  is  snatched  away. 

Chor.  Most  piteous  thou,  and  piteous  is  thy  lot. 

Elec.  That  know  I  well,  too  well,  «» 

In  this  my  life,  which  through  the  months  runs  on, 
Filled  full  of  grievous  fears, 
And  bitter,  hateful  ills. 

Chor.  We  saw  what  thou  dost  mourn. 

Elec.  Cease,  cease,  to  lead  me  on 
Where  now  not  one  is  left  .... 

Chor.  What  say'st  thou  ?     What  ? 

Elec.  Where  not  one  helper  comes, 
From  all  the  hopes  of  common  fatherhood 
And  stock  of  noble  sire. 

Chor.  Death  is  the  lot  of  all.  «*> 

Elec.  What  ?     Is  it  all  men's  lot 

would  be  the  issue  of  Polyneikes's  expedition  against  Thebes,  at 
first  refused  to  join,  but  afterwards  yielded  to  the  persuasion  of  his 
wife  Eriphyle,  whom  Polyneikes  had  bribed.  When  the  Argives 
fled,  he  and  his  four-horse  chariot  were  smitten  with  the  thunderbolt 
of  Zeus,  and  the  earth  opened  and  swallowed  him  up.  The  Chorus 
speaks  of  him  as  still  reigning,  in  reference  to  the  fact  that  many 
oracles  were  supposed  to  be  inspired  by  him  ;  and  suggests  the 
thought  that  Agamemnon,  too,  in  the  unseen  world  of  the  dead, 
may  yet  be  reigning,  and  so  may  work  out  vengeance  on  the  evil-doers. 
j'Amphiaraos,  before  leaving  Argos,  had  charged  his  sons, 
Alcmaeon  and  Amphilochos,  to  take  vengeance  on  their  mother, 
and  this  Alcmaeon  did.  Here,  as  before,  Sophocles  refers  to  a 
subject  that  he  himself  had  dramatised  in  his  tragedy  of  Eriphyle. 

ZiO 


F.LECTRA 

In  that  fierce  strife  of  speed, 
To  fall,  as  he  fell,  by  an  evil  fate, 
In  severed  reins  entangled  f 
Chor.  Wondrous  and  dark  that  doom. 
Elec.  I  trow  it  was,  if  in  a  strange  land,  he, 
Without  my  helping  hands  .... 
Chor.  Oh,  horror  !  horror  ! 
Elec.  Was  buried  with  no  sepulture  from  us, 
Nor  voice  of  wailing. 

Enter  CHRYSOTHEMIS,  running  eagerly. 

Chtys.  In  pure  delight,  dear  sister,  thus  1  rush, 
My  maiden  grace  abandoning,  to  come 
With  swiftest  foot ;  for  lo  !   I  bring  great  joy 
And  respite  from  the  ills  thou  long  hast  borne, 
And  still  did'st  wail. 

Elec.  And  whence  can'st  thou  have  found 

Help  for  my  woes  where  healing  there  is  none  ? 

CArys.  Orestes  comes  at  last.     Count  this  as  sure, 
Hearing  my  words,  as  that  thou  see'st  me  here. 

Elec.  What !     Art  thou  mad,  poor  wretch,  and  so  dost 

mock 
At  thine  own  sorrows,  and  at  mine  as  well  ? 

Cbrys.  Nay  !      By  our  father's  hearth,  I  do  not  speak 
These  things  in  scorn,  but  say  that  he  is  come. 

Elec.  Ah,  wretched  me  !     And  whose  word  is  it  then 
That  thou  hast  heard  with  such  credulity  ? 

Ckrys.  I,  of  myself,  no  other,  clearest  proof 
Have  seen,  and  therefore  I  believe  this  thing. 

Elfc.  What  hast  thou  seen,  poor  soul  ;  what  caught 

thy  gaze, 
'That  thou  art  fevered  with  this  flameless  fire  ? 

Chrjs.  Now  by  the  Gods  !   I  pray  thee,  list  to  me, 
That  thou  may'st  know  if  I  be  sane  or  mad.  **° 

Elec.  Tell  then  thy  tale,  if  thou  find  joy  in  it. 

Chryf.  And  I  will  tell  each  thing  of  all  I  saw ; 


ELECTRA 

For  when  I  came  where  stands  our  father's  tomb 

Time-honoured,1  on  the  summit  of  the  mound 

I  see  the  marks  of  flowing  streams  of  milk 

New  poured,  and  lo  !  my  father's  bier  was  crowned 

With  garlands  of  all  flowers  that  deck  the  fields ; 

And,  seeing  it,  I  wondered,  and  looked  round, 

Lest  any  man  should  still  be  hovering  near  ; 

And  when  I  saw  that  all  the  place  was  calm, 

I  went  yet  nearer  to  the  mound,  and  there 

I  saw  upon  the  topmost  point  of  all  *°° 

A  tress  of  hair,  fresh  severed  from  the  head. 

And  when  poor  I  beheld  it,  in  my  soul 

A  once-familiar  image  stirs  the  thought 

That  here  I  saw  a  token  true  from  him 

Whom  most  I  love,  Orestes.     In  my  hands 

I  take  it,  uttering  no  ill-omened  cries, 

But  straight  mine  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  of  joy  ; 

And  then  and  now  I  know  with  equal  faith 

This  precious  gift  can  come  from  none  but  him  ; 

Whose  task  is  this  but  either  mine  or  thine  ? 

And  I,  I  know,  have  had  no  hand  in  it,  ** 

Nor  yet  hast  thou  ;  how  else,  when  thou  'rt  forbid 

E'en  to  the  Gods  to  go  from  'neath  this  roof 

Except  at  cost  of  tears  ?     Nor  does  her  heart, 

Our  mother's,  love  to  do  such  things  as  these  ; 

Nor  could  she,  doing  it,  have  'scaped  our  view. 

*No  !     These  tomb-offerings  from  Orestes  come. 

Take  courage,  sister  dear  !     The  same  drear  fate 

Stands  not  for  ever  to  the  same  men  comrade  : 

Till  now  it  frowned  on  us  ;  but  lo  !  to-day 

Shall  be  of  countless  good  the  harbinger. 

Elec.  Ah  me  !     How  much  thy  madness  moves  my 
pity! 

Chrys.  What  !   Speak  I  not  a  thing  that  gives  thee  joy  ? 

Eltc .  Thou  know'st  not  where  thou  art  in  fact  or  thought. 

i  "  Time-honoured  "  as  the  sepulchre  of  the  house  of  Pelops. 

222 


ELECTRA 

Chrys.  How  can  I  not  know  what  I  clearly  saw  ? 

Elec.  He,  thou  poor  soul,  is  dead,  and  with  him  goei 
All  hope  of  safety.     Think  no  more  of  him. 

Ckrys.  Ah,  wretched  me !     From  whom   hast   thon 
heard  this  ? 

Elec.  From  one  who  stood  hard  by  when  he  was  killed. 

Chrys,  And   where    is    he  ?     Strange    wonder  thrillf 
through  me. 

Elec.  Within,  our  mother's  not  unwelcome  guest. 

Chrys.  Ah  me  !     And  yet  what  man  was  it  that  left 
These  many  offerings  at  my  father's  grave  ?  •" 

Elec.  I  for  my  part  must  think  that  some  one  placed 

them 
Memorials  of  Orestes  who  is  dead. 

Chrys.  Ah  me  !     I  hastened,  joyous,  with  my  tale, 
Not  knowing  in  what  depths  of  woe  we  were; 
And  now,  when  I  have  come,  1  find  at  once 
My  former  woes,  with  fresh  ones  in  their  train. 

Elec.  So  stands  it  with  thee.     But  if  thou  wilt  list 
To  me,  thou  shalt  cast  off  this  weight  of  woe. 

Chrys.  What !  shall  I  ever  bring  the  dead  to  life  ?  •* 

Elec.  I  meant  not  that :  I  am  not  quite  so  mad. 

Chrys.  What  bidd'st  thou,  then,  that  I  can  answer  for  I 

Elec.  That  thou  should'st  dare  to  do  what  I  shall  bid. 

Chrys.  Well  !     If  it  profit,  I  will  not  refuse. 

Elec.  See  !  without  labour  nothing  prospers  well. 

Chrys.  I  see,  and  I  with  all  my  strength  will  work. 

Elec.  Hear,  then,  what  I  am  purposed  to  perform. 
Thou  knowest,  e'en  thou,  that  we  behold  no  more 
The  presence  of  our  friends,  but  Hades  dark 
Has  snatched  them,  and  we  twain  are  left  alone.          "^ 
And  I,  as  long  as  I  still  heard  and  deemed 
My  brother  strong  and  living,  still  had  hopes 
That  he  would  come  to  avenge  our  father's  death ; 
But  now  that  he  is  gone  I  look  to  thee, 
That  thou  flinch  not,  with  me  thy  sister  here, 
"3 


ELECTRA 

From  slaying  him,  ^gisthos,  whose  hand  wrought 
Our  father's  murder  ;  for  I  may  not  hide 
Aught  of  my  mind  from  thee.     How  long,  how  long 
Dost  thou  wait  dully,  looking  to  what  hope 
As  yet  remaining,  when  for  thee  is  nought 
But  grief,  as  robbed  of  all  thy  father's  wealth, 
And  sorrow  that  thou  waxest  old  till  now, 
Without  or  marriage-bed  or  marriage-song? 
And  cherish  thou  no  hope  that  thou  shalt  gain 
Or  this  or  that.     ^Egisthos  is  not  blind, 
To  let  our  progeny,  or  mine  or  thine, 
Spring  up  or  grow,  to  be  his  certain  harm. 
But,  if  thou  wilt  to  my  advice  give  heed, 
First,  thou  shalt  gain  the  praise  of  reverence  due 
Both  from  our  father,  who  now  sleeps  below, 
And  from  our  brother;  next,  thou  shalt  be  called, 
As  thou  wast  born,  free,  noble,  and  shalt  gain 
Befitting  marriage.     All  men  love  to  look 
On  deeds  of  goodness.     Dost  not  see  full  clear 
All  the  fair  fame  thou  'It  gain  for  thee  and  me, 
If  thou  obey  my  counsels  ?     Who,  seeing  us, 
Or  citizen  or  stranger,  will  not  greet  us 
With  praises  such  as  these  ?     "  Behold,  my  friends, 
Those  sisters  twain,  who  saved  their  father's  house, 
And  on  their  foes  who  walked  in  pride  of  strength, 
Regardless  of  their  lives,  wrought  doom  of  death  ! 
These  all  must  love,  these  all  must  reverence ; 
These  in  our  feasts,  and  when  the  city  meets 
In  full  assemblage,  all  should  honour  well, 
For  this  their  manly  prowess."     Thus  will  all 
Speak  of  us,  so  that  fame  we  shall  not  miss, 
Living  or  dying.     Do  but  hear  me,  dear  one. 
Toil  for  thy  father,  for  thy  brother  work, 
Free  me  from  all  my  evils,  free  thyself, 
Knowing  this,  that  living  basely  is  for  those 
Who  have  been  born  of  noble  stock  most  base. 
"4 


ELECTRA 

Chor.  Forethought  at  such  a  crisis  is  for  those 
Who  speak  and  those  that  hear,  the  best  ally. 

CAryi.  And  she,  O  women,  ere  she  spoke,  had  kept 
(Had  she  not  chanced  to  be  of  mind  diseased) 
That  cautious  reverence  which  she  keeps  not  now. 
What  hast  thou  seen  that  thou  dost  arm  thyself 
In  such  foolhardy  rashness,  and  dost  call 
On  me  to  help  thee  ?     Wilt  thou  never  see? 
Lo,  thou  wast  born  a  woman,  not  a  man, 
And  art  less  strong  than  those  thine  enemies. 
And  their  good  fortune  prospers  every  day, 
While  ours  falls  off,  and  doth  to  nothing  come. 
Who,  plotting  to  attack  a  man  like  that, 
Shall  pass  unscathed,  unvexed  by  bitter  woe  ? 
Take  heed  lest  we  who  fare  but  badly  now 
Should  fare  yet  worse,  if  any  hear  thy  speech  ; 
For  nothing  does  it  help  or  profit  us, 
Gaining  fair  fame,  a  shameful  death  to  die  ; 
[Yet  death  is  not  the  worst,  but  when  one  seeki 
To  die,  and  fails  e'en  that  poor  gain  to  win.] 
Come,  I  implore  thee,  and  before  thou  work 
Our  utter  ruin,  and  our  house  lay  waste, 
Restrain  thine  anger.     What  thou  now  hast  said 
I  will  keep  secret,  and  no  ill  result 
From  this  shall  come.     But  thou,  be  wise  at  last, 
Powerless  thyself,  to  yield  before  the  strong. 

Chor.  Yes,  hearken  thou  !     No  gain  that  men  can  reap 
Surpasses  forethought  and  wise-counselled  mind. 

Elec.  Thou  hast  said  nought  unlocked  for.     Well  I 

knew 

That  thou  would'st  none  of  all  I  urged  on  thee. 
Well  !   I  alone,  with  my  own  hands,  must  do 
This  deed  :  for  void  we  will  not  leave  it  now.  101° 

Chrys.  Would  thou  had'st  had  this  spirit  then,  when  he, 
Our  father,  died  !  Great  things  thou  then  had'st  wrought. 

Elec.  My  nature  was  the  same,  though  weak  my  mind. 


ELECTRA 

Chrys.  Strive,  then,  to  have  such  mind  for  evermore. 
Elec.  Thou  giv'st  advice  as  one  who  will  not  help. 
Chrys.  'Tis  fit  that  they  who  do  ill,  ill  should  fare. 
Elec.  I  praise  thy  wit ;  thy  cowardice  I  hate. 
Chrys.  Soon  I  shall  have  to  hear,while  thou  dost  praise. 
Elec.  Thou  at  my  hands  shalt  never  suffer  that.       10JO 
Chrys.  The  long,  long  future  must  on  this  decide. 
Elec.  Away  !  away  !  Thou  hast  no  power  to  help. 
Chrys.  I  have  ;  but  thou  hast  lost  the  power  to  learn. 
Elec.  Go,  then.     Tell  all  to  that  thy  mother  there. 
Chrys.   I  do  not  hate  thee  with  a  hate  like  that. 
Elec.  Yet  think  to  what  a  shame  thou  leadest  me. 
Ckrys.  No,'tis  not  shame,  but  forethought  for  thy  good. 
Elec.  Must  I  then  follow  what  thou  deemest  just  ? 
Chrys.  When  thou  art  wise,  then  thou  shalt  take  the 

lead. 
Elec.  'Tis  strange  one  speaking   well   should   err  so 

greatly. 
Ckrys.  Thou  hast  said  well  the  ill  thou  mak'st  thine 

own. 

Elec.  What  ?    Seem  I  not  to  thee  to  speak  the  right  ? 
Chrys.  There  is  a  time  when  even  right  may  harm. 
Elec.  I  do  not  choose  to  live  by  laws  like  that. 
Ckrys.  If  this  thou  dost,  thou 'It  one  day  give  me  praise. 
Elec.  And  1  will  do  it,  nothing  scared  by  thee. 
Chrys.  And  is  it  so  ?    Wilt  thou  not  change  thy  plans  ? 
Elec.  Not  so  ;  than  evil  counsel  nought  is  worse. 
Ckrys.  Thou  seem'st  to  care  for  nought  of  all  \  speak. 
Elec.  Long  since  I  planned  it ;  'tis  no  new  device. 
Chrys.  I  then  must  needs  depart  ;  thou  darest  not  10< 
To  praise  my  words,  nor  I  these  moods  of  thine. 

Elec.  Go,  then,  within  :   I  ne'er  will  follow  thee, 
No  !  not  though  thou  should'st  wish  it  eagerly. 
To  hunt  a  shadow  is  a  madman's  sport. 

Cbrys.  Nay,  then  !     If  thou  dost  think  thou  reasonest 

well, 

Mi 


ELECTRA 

So  reason.      When  thou  find'st  thyself  in  grief, 
Then  thou  wilt  praise  my  counsels. 

[Exeunt  ELECTRA  and  CHRYSOTHEMIS. 

STROPHE  I 
Ckor.  Why,  when  we  see  on  high 

The  birds  for  wisdom  famed1 
Caring  to  nourish  those  from  whom  they  spring, 

From  whom  they  found  support, 

Why  fail  we  to  requite 

Like  boon  on  equal  scale  ? 
But,  lo  !  by  Zeus'  glaring  lightning  flash, 

By  Themis  throned  on  high, 
Not  long  shall  we  escape  our  chastisement. 
Ah,  Voice  that  to  the  central  depths  of  earth2 

Dost  bear  our  human  deeds, 

Lift  up  thy  wailing  speech 
To  those  of  Atreus'  sons  who  sleep  below, 

Telling  of  foulest  shame, 

Unmeet  for  choral  song. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Long  since  their  house  is  sick 

With  sorrow's  pain,  and  now 
Their  children's  strife  no  more  may  be  appeased 

By  kindly  intercourse. 

Electra,  left  alone, 

Sails  on  a  troubled  sea, 
*Still  wailing  evermore,  with  piteous  cry, 

The  father  whom  she  loved, 

1  The  "birds  for  wisdom  famed  "  are  here  the  storks.    Building 
their  nests  on  the  roofs  of  houses,  their  habits  came  under  men's 
notice,  and  they  had  come  to  be  proverbial  as  presenting  the  pattern 
of  filial  reverence. 

2  The  feeling  that  tidings  from  the  world  of  the  living  reached 
the  dead  in  Hades  was  expressed  in  the  personification  of  a  Voice, 
Message,  Fame,  whose  dwelling  was  below  the  earth,  and  whose 
function  it  was  to  bear  them. 

"7 


ELECTRA 

Like  nightingale  whose  song  is  fraught  with  woe, 
Nor  has  she  any  shrinking  fear  oi  death, 

Ready  to  close  her  eyes 

In  darkness  as  of  night, 
If  only  she  the  Erinnys  pair1  destroy.  I08r 

Who  lives  there  true  in  soul 

To  noble  stock  as  she  ? 

STROPHE  II 

None  of  the  great  and  good 

Would  lose  his  ancient  name, 
And  stain  his  glory  by  a  wretched  life. 
So  thou,  my  child,  my  child,  did'st  choose  the  fate, 

The  fate  which  all  bewail, 

*And,  having  warred  with  ill, 

Did'st  gain,  in  one  brief  word, 
The  good  report  of  daughter  wise  and  best. 
ANTISTROPHE  II 

May'st  thou,  in  might  and  wealth, 

Prevail  o'er  those  thy  foes, 

As  much  as  now  thou  liv'st  beneath  their  hands; 
For  I  have  found  thee,  not  in  high  estate 

Wending  thy  way,  yet  still, 

In  love  and  fear  of  Zeus, 

Gaining  the  foremost  prize 
In  all  the  laws  that  best  and  greatest  are. 

Enter  ORESTES  and  PYLADES,  followed  by  two  or  three 

Attendants  bearing  a  funeral  urn. 
Ores.  And  did  we  then,  ye  women,  hear  aright  ? 
And  do  we  rightly  journey  where  we  wish  ? 

Chor.  What  dost  thou  search  ?      And  wherefore  art 

thou  come? 
Ores.  This  long  time  past  I  seek  ^Egisthns'  home. 

1  The  Erinnys  pair  are,  of  course.  Clytemnestra  and  -flLgisthos, 
looked  on  as  intensely  evil,  and  yet  the  instruments  of  a  divine 
vengeance. 

aal 


ELECTRA 

Chor.  Thou  comest  right,  and  blameless  he  who  told 
thee. 

Ores.  And  which  of  you  would  tell  to  those  within 
The  longed-for  coming  of  our  company  ? 

Chor.  [Pointing  to  ELECTRA.]  She,  if  'tis  fit  to  call  the 
nearest  one. 

Ores.  Go,  then,  O  maiden,  go  and  tell  them  there, 
That  certain  men  from  Phokis  seek  ^Egisthos. 

E/ec.  Ah,  wretched  me  !     It  cannot  be  ye  bring 
Clear  proofs  of  that  dire  rumour  which  we  heard  ? 

Ores.  I  know  not  of  thy  rumour  ;  Strophios  old      mo 
Charged  me  to  bring  the  news  about  Orestes. 

E/ff.  What  is  it,  stranger  ?     Fear  creeps  through  my 
veins. 

Ores.  We  bring,  as  thou  dost  see,  in  one  small  urn, 
All  that  is  left,  poor  relics  of  the  dead. 

E/ec.  Ah,  me  !     And  this  is  it !    'Twould  seem  I  gaze 
On  that  same  burden,  clear  and  close  at  hand. 

Ores.  If  thou  dost  weep  Orestes'  hapless  fate, 
Know  that  this  urn  doth  all  his  body  hold. 

Elec.  Ah,  stranger!     Now  by  all  the  Gods,  I  pray, 
If  this  urn  hold  him,  give  it  in  mine  hands, 
That  I  my  fate  and  that  of  all  my  kin 
May  wail  and  weep  with  these  poor  ashes  here. 

Ores.  [To  his  Attendants.]  Bring  it,  and  give  it  her, 

whoe'er  she  be  : 

At  least  she  does  not  ask  it  as  in  hate, 
But  is  perchance  a  friend,  or  near  in  blood. 

Elec.  [Taking  the  urn  in  her  hands.}  O  sole  memorial 

of  his  life  whom  most 
Of  all  alive  I  loved  !     Orestes  mine, 
With  other  thoughts  I  sent  thee  forth  than  these 
With  which  I  now  receive  thee.     Now,  I  bear 
In  these  my  hands  what  is  but  nothingness ; 
But  sent  thee  forth,  dear  boy,  in  bloom  of  youth.         1JM 
Ah,  would  that  I  long  since  had  ceased  to  live 


ELECTRA 

Before  I  sent  thee  to  a  distant  shore, 
With  these  my  hands,  and  saved  thee  then  from  death ! 
So  had'st  thou  perished  on  that  self-same  day?> 
And  had  a  share  in  that  thy  father's  tomb. 
But  now  from  home,  an  exile  in  a  land 
That  was  not  thine,  without  thy  sister  near, 
So  did'st  thou  die,  and  I,  alas,  poor  me ! 
Did  neither  lay  thee  out  with  lustral  rites 
And  loving  hands,  nor  bear  thee,  as  was  meet, 
Sad  burden,  from  the  blazing  funeral  pyre  ;  ut 

But  thou,  poor  sufferer,  tended  by  the  hands 
Of  strangers,  comest,  in  this  paltry  urn, 
In  paltry  bulk.     Ah,  miserable  me ! 
For  all  the  nurture,  now  so  profitless, 
Which  I  was  wont  with  sweetest  toil  to  give 
For  thee,  my  brother.     Never  did  she  love, 
Thy  mother,  as  I  loved  thee ;  nor  did  they 
Who  dwell  within  there  nurse  thee,  but  't\vas  I, 
And  I  was  ever  called  thy  sister  true ; 
But  now  all  this  has  vanished  in  a  day 
In  this  thy  death  ;  for,  like  a  whirlwind,  thou 
Hast  passed,  and  swept  off  all.     My  father  falls; 
I  perish;  thou  thyself  hast  gone  from  sight; 
Our  foes  exult.     My  mother,  wrongly  named, 
For  mother  she  is  none,  is  mad  with  joy, 
Of  whom  thou  oft  did'st  send  word  secretly 
That  thou  would'st  come  and  one  day  show  thyself 
A  true  avenger.     But  thine  evil  fate, 
Thine  and  mine  also,  hath  bereaved  me  of  thee, 
And  now  hath  sent,  instead  of  that  dear  form, 
This  dust,  this  shadow,  vain  and  profitless. 
Woe,  woe  is  me ! 

O  piteous,  piteous  corpse  ! 

Thou  dearest,  who  did'st  tread, 
(Woe,  woe  is  me!) 

Paths  full  of  dread  and  fear, 
230 


ELECTRA 

How  hast  thou  brought  me  low, 
Yea,  brought  me  very  low,  thou  dearest  one! 
Therefore  receive  thou  me  to  this  thine  home, 
Ashes  to  ashes,  that  with  thee  below 
I  may  from  henceforth  dwell.     When  thou  wast  here 
I  shared  with  thee  an  equal  lot,  and  now 
I  crave  in  dying  not  to  miss  thy  tomb  ; 
For  those  that  die  I  see  are  freed  of  grief.  mo 

Chor.  Thou,  O  Electra,  take  good  heed,  wast  born 
Of  mortal  father,  mortal,  too,  Orestes ; 
Yield  not  too  much  to  grief.     To  suffer  thus 
Is  common  lot  of  all. 

Ores.  [Trembling.]  Ah,  woe  is  me  ! 
What  shall  I  say?     Ah,  whither  find  my  way 
In  words  confused?     I  fail  to  rule  my  speech. 

Eke.  What  grief  disturbs  thee?     Wherefore  speak'st 
thou  thus? 

Ores.  Is  this  Electra's  noble  form  I  see? 

Elec.  That  self-same  form,  and  sad  enough  its  state. 

Ores  Alas,  alas,  for  this  sad  lot  of  thine ! 

Elec.  Surely  thou  dost  not  wail,  O  friend,  for  me?      Uio 

Ores.  O  form  most  basely,  godlessly  misused ! 

Elec.  Thy  words  ill-omened  fall  on  none  but  me. 

Ores.  Alas,  for  this  thy  life  of  lonely  woe ! 

Elec.  Why,  in  thy  care  for  me,  friend,  groanest  thou? 

Ores,  How  little  knew  I  of  my  fortune's  ills ! 

Elec.  What  have  I  said  to  throw  such  light  on  them  ? 

Ores.  Now  that  I  see  thee  clad  with  many  woes. 

Elec.  And  yet  thou  see'st  but  few  of  all  mine  ills. 

Ores.  What  could  be  sadder  than  all  this  to  see  ? 

Elec.  This,  that  I  sit  at  meat  with  murderers.          119° 

Ores.  With  whose  ?   What  evil  dost  thou  mean  by  this  ? 

Elec.  My  father's ;  next,  I'm  forced  to  be  their  slave. 

Ores.  And  who  constrains  thee  to  this  loathed  task  ? 

Elec.  My  mother  she  is  called,  no  mother  like. 

Ores.  How  so?     By  blows,  or  life  with  hardships  full  ? 


ELECTRA 

Eke.  Both  blows  and  hardships,  and  all  forms  of  ill. 

Ores.  And  is  there  none  to  help,  not  one  to  check? 

Elec.  No,  none.     Who  was  .  .  .  thou  bringest  him  as 
dust. 

Ores.  O  sad  one !     Long  I  pitied  as  I  gazed ! 

Elec.  Know,  then,  that  thou  alone  dost  pity  me.      ljoe 

Ores.  For  I  alone  come  suffering  woes  like  thine. 

Elec.  What?     Can  it  be  thou  art  of  kin  to  us? 

Ores.  If  these  are  friendly,  I  could  tell  thee  more. 

Elec.  Friendly  are  they  ;  thou  'It  speak  to  faithful  ones. 

Ores.  Put  by  that  urn,  that  thou  may'st  hear  the  whole. 

Elec.  Ah,  by  the  Gods,  O  stranger,  ask  not  that. 

Ores.  Do  what  I  bid  thee,  and  thou  shalt  not  err. 

Elec.  Nay,  by  thy  beard,  of  that  prize  rob  me  not. 

Ores.  I  may  not  have  it  so. 

Elec.  Ah  me,  Orestes,  "» 

How  wretched  I,  bereaved  of  this  thy  tomb! 

Ores.  Hush,  hush  such  words :  thou  hast  no  cause  fof 
wailing. 

Elec.  Have  I  no  cause,  who  mourn  a  brother's  death  ? 

Ores.  Thou  hast  no  call  to  utter  speech  like  this. 

Elec.  Am  I  then  deemed  unworthy  of  the  dead  ? 

Ores.  Of  none  unworthy.     This  is  nought  to  thee. 

Elec.  Yet  if  I  hold  Orestes'  body  here. 

Ores.  'Tis  not  Orestes'  save  in  show  of  speech. 

Elec.   Where,  then,  is  that  poor  exile's  sepulchre  ? 

Ores.  Nay,  of  the  living  there  's  no  sepulchre. 

Elec.  What  say'st  thou,  boy  ?  ia* 

Ores.  No  falsehood  what  I  say. 

Elec.  And  does  he  live  ? 

Ores.  He  lives,  if  I  have  life. 

Elec.  What  >     Art  thou  he  ? 

Ores.  Look  thou  upon  this  seal, 

My  father's  once,  and  learn  if  I  speak  truth. 

Eltc.   O  blessed  light  ! 

Ores.  Most  blessed,  I  too  own. 

232 


ELECTRA 

Elec.  O  voice  !     And  art  thou  come  ? 
Ores.  No  longer  learn 

Thy  news  from  others. 

Elec.  And  I  have  thee  here, 

Here  in  my  grasp  ? 

Ores.  So  may'st  thou  always  have  me  ! 

Elec.  O  dearest  friends,  my  fellow-citizens, 
Look  here  on  this  Orestes,  dead  indeed 
In  feigned  craft,  and  by  that  feigning  saved. 

Chor.  We  see  it,  daughter ;  and  at  what  has  chanced 
A  tear  of  gladness  trickles  from  our  eye?. 

Elec.  O  offspring,  offspring  of  a  form  most  dear, 
Ye  came,  ye  came  at  last, 
Ye  found  us,  yea,  ye  came, 
Ye  saw  whom  ye  desired. 

Ores.  Yes,  we  are  come.    Yet  wait  and  hold  thy  peace. 
Elec.  What  now  ? 

Ores.  Silence  is  best,  lest  some  one  hear  within. 
Elec.  Nay,  nay.     By  Artemis, 
The  ever-virgin  One, 

I  shall  not  deign  to  dread  "* 

Those  women  there  within, 
With  worthless  burden  still 
Cumbering  the  ground. 
Ores.  See  to  it,  for  in  women  too  there  lives 
The  strength  of  battle.     Thou  hast  proved  it  well. 

Elec.  [Sobbing.]  Ah,  ah  !     Ah  me  ! 
There  thou  hast  touched  upon  a  woe  unveiled, 
That  knows  no  healing,  no, 

Nor  ever  may  be  hid.  1K> 

Ores.  I  know  it  well.     But,  when  occasion  bids, 
Then  should  we  call  those  deeds  to  memory. 
Elec.  All  time  for  me  is  fit, 
Yea,  all,  to  speak  of  this, 
With  wrath  as  it  deserves  ; 
Till  now  I  had  scant  liberty  of  speech. 


ELECTRA 

Ores.  There  we  are  one.  Preserve,  then,  what  thou  hast. 
Elec.  And  what,  then,  shall  I  do  ? 
Ores.  When  time  serves  not, 

Speak  not  o'ermuch. 

Elec.  And  who  then  worthily, 

Now  thou  art  come,  would  choose 
Silence  instead  of  speech  ? 
For  lo  !   I  see  thee  now  unlocked,  unhoped  for. 

Ores.  Then  thou  did'st  see  me  here, 
When  the  Gods  urged  my  coming. 

Elec.  Thou  hast  said 

What  mounts  yet  higher  than  thy  former  boon, 
If  God  has  sent  thee  forth 
To  this  our  home ;  I  deem 
The  work  as  Heaven's  own  deed. 
Ores.  Loth  am  I  to  restrain  thee  in  thy  joy, 
And  yet  I  fear  delight  o'ermasters  thee. 
Elec.  O  thou  who  after  many  a  weary  year 
At  last  hast  deigned  to  come, 
(Oh,  coming  of  great  joy  !) 
Do  not,  thus  seeing  me 
Involved  in  many  woes,  .... 
Ores.  What  is  it  that  thou  ask'st  me  not  to  do  ? 
Elec.  Deprive  me  not,  nor  force  me  to  forego 
The  joy  supreme  of  looking  on  thy  face. 

Ores.  \  should  be  wroth  with  others  who  would  force 

thee. 

Elec.  Dost  thou  consent,  then  ? 

Ores.  How  act  otherwise  ? 

Eiec.  Ah,  friends,  I  heard  a  voice  [12M 

Which  never  had  I  dreamt  would  come  to  me; 
Then  I  kept  in  my  dumb  and  passionate  mood, 

Nor  cried  I,  as  I  heard  ; 
But  now  I  have  thee ;  thou  hast  come  to  me 
With  face  most  precious,  dear  to  look  upon, 
Which  e'en  in  sorrow  I  can  ne'er  forget. 
'34 


ELECTRA 

Ores.  All  needless  words  pass  over.     Tell  me  not 
My  mother's  shame,  nor  how  ^Egisthos  drains 
My  father's  wealth,  much  wastes,  and  scatters  much ; 
Much  speech  might  lose  occasion's  golden  hour; 
But  what  fits  in  to  this  our  present  need, 
That  tell  me,  where,  appearing  or  concealed, 
We  best  shall  check  our  boasting  enemies, 
In  this  our  enterprise;  so  when  we  twain 
Go  to  the  palace,  look  to  it,  that  she  note  not, 
Thy  mother,  by  thy  blither  face,  our  coming, 
But  mourn  as  for  that  sorrow  falsely  told. 
When  we  have  prospered,  then  shah  thou  have  leave 
Freely  to  smile,  and  joy  exultingly. 

Elec.  Yes,  brother  dear  !     Whatever  pleaseth  thee, 
That  shall  be  my  choice  also,  since  my  joy 
I  had  not  of  mine  own,  but  gained  from  thee, 
Nor  would  I  cause  thee  e'en  a  moment's  pain, 
Myself  to  reap  much  profit.     I  should  fail, 
So  doing,  to  work  His  will  who  favours  us. 
What  meets  us  next,  thou  knowest,  dost  thou  not  ? 
^)gisthos,  as  thou  hearest,  gone  from  home ; 
My  mother  there  within,  of  whom  fear  not 
Lest  she  should  see  my  face  look  blithe  with  joy ;        mo 
For  my  old  hatred  eats  into  my  soul, 
And,  since  I  Ve  seen  thee,  I  shall  never  cease 
To  weep  for  very  joy.     How  could  I  cease, 
Who  in  this  one  short  visit  looked  on  thee 
Dead,  and  alive  again  f     Strange  things  to-day 
Hast  thou  wrought  out,  so  strange  that  should  there  come 
My  father,  in  full  life,  I  should  not  deem 
'Twas  a  mere  marvel,  but  believe  I  saw  him. 
But,  since  thou  com'st  on  such  an  enterprise, 
Rule  thou  as  pleases  thee.     Were  I  alone, 
I  had  not  failed  of  two  alternatives, 
Or  nobly  had  I  saved  myself,  or  else  "* 

Had  nobly  perished. 


ELECTRA 

Oret.  Silence  now  is  best; 

I  hear  the  steps  of  some  one  from  within, 
As  if  approaching. 

Enter  Attendant  of  ORESTES  from  the  palace. 

Elec.  [Aloud.]  Enter  in,  my  friends, 
On  many  grounds,  and  chiefly  that  ye  bring, 
What  none  will  send  away,  yet  none  receive 
With  any  touch  of  pleasure. 

Attend.  O  ye  fools. 

And  blind,  bereaved  of  counsel,  care  ye  now 
No  longer  for  your  lives  ?  or  is  there  not 
Your  mother-wit  still  with  you  ?     Know  ye  not 
Ye  stand — I  say  not  on  the  very  verge, 
But  in  the  ills — the  greatest  ills  themselves  ? 
Had  I  not  chanced  long  since  to  keep  my  watch 
Just  at  the  gate,  your  doings  had  been  known 
There,  in  the  house,  before  your  forms  were  seen. 
But,  as  it  is,  I  guarded  against  this  ; 
And  now,  set  free  from  all  this  flood  of  talk, 
Free  from  this  girl's  insatiate  burst  of  joy, 
Go  ye  within.     In  such  a  deed  delay 
Is  evil,  and  'tis  time  to  end  with  it. 

Ores.   How  stand  things  there  tor  me  to  go  within? 

Attend.  Right  well !  for  none  is  found  who  knows  thee 
there.  jaw 

Ores.  'Twould  seem  that  thou  hast  told  of  me  as  dead. 

Attend.  Know  thou  art  here  as  one  to  Hades  gone. 

Ores.   Do  they  rejoice  in  this  ?    What  words  were  said  ? 

Attend.  When  all  is  o'er,  I  '11  tell  thee.     As  it  is, 
All  is  well  with  them,  even  what  is  ill. 

Elec.  Who  is  this,  brother  ?    Tell  me,  by  the  Gods. 

Ores.  Dost  thou  not  know? 

Elec.  I  call  him  not  to  mind. 

Oret.  Know'st  thou  not  him  whose  hands  thou  gav'st 
me  to? 

•36 


ELECTRA 

Elec.  To  whom  ?     What  say'st  thou  ? 

Ores.  Even  he,  who  brought  me, 

Through  thy  wise  forethought,  to  the  Phokian  plain.  13*° 

Elec.  What  ?    Is  this  he,  whom  only,  out  of  many, 
/  faithful  found  when  they  our  father  slew  ? 

Ores.  'Tis  he  :  waste  no  more  words  in  questioning. 

Elec.  O  blessed  light,  O  thou  preserver  sole 
Of  Agamemnon's  house,  how  cam'st  thou  here  ? 
And  art  thou  he  who  then  did  rescue  him 
And  me  from  many  sorrows  ?     O  dear  hands, 
And  thou  that  did'st  thy  feet's  glad  ministry, 
How  was  it  that  so  long  thou  stayed'st  with  me, 
And  yet  did'st  'scape  my  ken,  did'st  not  appear, 
But  did'st  in  words  destroy  me,  bringing  acts 
Most  full  of  joy?     Hail,  O  my  father,  hail, 
(For  sure,  I  think  I  see  a  father's  face,) 
Hail,  once  again,  and  know  that  this  one  day 
Above  all  men  I  hated  thee  and  loved. 

Attend.  This  is  enough,  methinks.    What  lies  between 
Full  many  a  day  and  many  a  circling  night 
Shall  show  thee  plain,  Electra.     But  you  twain, 
There  standing  by,  I  call  to  act,  for  now 
'The  time  is  come.     Now  Clytemnestra  sits 
Alone.     Now  no  man  is  within.     Think  well, 
ff  ye  hold  back,  that  ye  will  have  to  fight 
VVith  these  and  others  craftier  far  than  they. 

Ores.  No  longer  is  it  time  for  lengthened  speech, 
My  Pylades,  but  with  swift  foot  to  press 
tVithin,  when  first  we  have  adored  the  shrines 
Of  all  the  ancestral  Gods  who  guard  these  gates. 

\Exeunt  ORESTES  and  PYLADES  into  the  paiace. 

Elec.  O  King  Apollo,  hear  them  graciously, 
And  hear  me  also,  who  of  what  I  had 
Have  stood  before  thee  with  a  liberal  hand ; 
And  now  Lykeian  king,  Apollo,  hear; 
With  all  I  have  I  kneel,  pray,  supplicate  ; 
237 


ELECTRA 

Be  Thou  the  gracious  helper  of  our  plans, 

And  show  to  all  men  how  the  Gods  bestow 

Their  due  rewards  on  all  impiety.  [Exit. 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  See  ye,  where  Ares,  breathing  slaughter  still, 
Speeds  on  his  onward  way, 
Slaughter  that  none  may  check ; 
E'en  at  this  very  hour,  beneath  the  roof, 
They  go  who  track  all  evil  deeds  of  guile, 

The  hounds  whom  none  escape ; 
And  lo  !  my  soul's  dream  doth  not  tarry  long 
Floating  in  wild  suspense  ; 

ANTISTROPHE 
For  now  beneath  the  roof-tree  he  has  passed, 

The  avenger  of  the  dead, 

Treading  with  subtle  feet, 
E'en  to  his  father's  high  ancestral  halls, 
And  in  his  hands  bears  slaughter  newly  edged  ; 

And  Hermes,  Maia's  son, 
Hiding  their  counsel,  leads  them  to  the  goal, 

Leads  on,  and  tarries  not. 

Enter  ELECTRA  from  the  palace. 

EUc.  Now,  dearest  friends,  the  men  stand  there  within, 
And  do  their  deed.     But  hush  :  in  silence  wait. 
Chor.  How  is 't  ?     What  do  they  ? 
Elec.  She  prepares  an  urn      140° 

For  sepulture,  and  those  two  stand  hard  by. 
Chor.  Why  did'st  thou  rush  without  ? 
Elec.  To  stand  on  guard, 

That  so  -flDgisthos,  if  he  home  return, 
May  not  escape  our  notice. 

Clytem.  [Wittin.]  Woe!  oh,  woe  ! 

O  house  bereaved  of  friends, 
And  full  of  them  that  slay  ! 
138 


ELECTRA 

Elec.  A  cry  goes  up  within  ;  friends,  hear  ye  not  ? 

Ckor.  I  heard  what  none  should  hear,  ah  misery  ! 
And  shuddered  listening. 

Clytem.  [Wit  kin.}         Ah  me  !  Ah  me  !  Woe,  Woe  ! 
yEgisthos,  where  art  thou  ? 

Elec.  Ha  !     List  again, 

I  hear  a  bitter  cry. 

Clytcrn.  [Within.]  My  son,  my  son, 
Have  pity  on  thy  mother  ! 

Elec.  Thou  had'st  none 

On  him,  nor  on  the  father  that  begat  him. 

Ckor.  O  land  !   O  miserable  race  !     Thy  doom 
Each  day  is  "  perish,  perish  utterly." 

Clytem.  [ffittin.]  Ah  !  I  am  smitten. 

Elec.  Smite  her  yet  again. 

If  thou  hast  strength  for  it. 

Clytem.  [Within.]  Ah  !  Blow  on  blow  ! 

Elec.  Would  that  ^gisthos  shared  them. 

Ckor.  Yes.     The  curse 

Is  now  fulfilled.     The  buried  live  again  ; 
For  they  who  died  long  since  now  drain  in  turn 
The  blood  of  those  that  slew  them. 

Enter  ORESTES  and  PYLADES. 

See  !     They  come  ; 

And  lo  !   their  crimsoned  hands  drip  drops  of  gore 
'Poured  out  to  Ares ;  and  I  dare  not  blame. 
Elec.  How  fare  ye  now,  Orestes  ? 
Ores.  All  within 

Is  well,  if  well  Apollo  prophesied. 
Elec.  And  is  she  dead,  vile  wretch  ? 
Ora.  Yes.    Fear  thou  not 

Thy  mother's  mood  shall  e'er  shame  thee  again. 

Ckor.   Hush  !   for  I  see  ./Egisthos  full  in  sight.  iao 

Elec.  Back,  back,  ye  boys ! 

[Thrusts  ORESTES  and  PYLADES  behind  the  scene. 
239 


ELECTRA 

Ores.  {As  be  goes.}  And  see  ye  where  this  man  .  .  .  .? 

Eke.  He  from  the  suburbs  comes  upon  us  now, 
Rejoicing. 

Chor.       Go,  full  speed,  behind  the  doors, 
That  ye,  one  work  well  done,  may  yet  again  .... 

Ores.  Take  courage,  we  will  act  .... 

Elec.  Now  speed  thy  plans.  [Pushing  him  of. 

Ores.  I  then  am  gone.  [Exeunt  ORESTES  r.nd  PYLADES. 

Elec.  What  meets  us  next  is  mine. 

Chor.  'Twere  good  to  speak  to  this  man  in  his  ear 
But  few  words,  very  gently,  that  he  rush 
Into  the  hidden  struggle  of  his  doom. 


ii.  Who  knows  of  you  where  they,  from  Phokis 

come, 

May  now  be  found,  who  bring,  they  tell  me,  news 
That  our  Orestes  has  breathed  out  his  last, 
In  wreck  of  chariot  storm?     Thee,  [To  ELECTRA,]  thee, 

I  ask- 

Yes,  thee,  still  wont  to  be  of  old  so  brave. 
As  I  suppose  it  touches  thee  the  most, 
So  thou,  knowing  most,  may'st  tell  me  what  I  seek. 

Elec.  I  know.     How  else  ?     Could  I  then  stand  aloo! 
From  that  dear  chance  of  those  who  most  are  mine  ? 
&gis.  Where  are  the  strangers,  then  ?     Tell  this  to 
me.  ™ 

Elec.  Within  ;  for  they  have  found  a  loving  hostess. 
Mfft.  And  did  they  say  distinctly  he  was  dead  ? 
Elec.  Ah  no  !     They  showed  him,  not  in  words  alone. 
jEgis.  And  is  he  here,  that  we  may  see  him  plain  ? 
Elec.  'Tis  here,  a  most  unwelcome  sight  to  see. 
&gif.  Against  thy  wont  thou  giv'st  me  joy  indeed. 
Elec.  Thou  may'st  rejoice,  if  this  be  ground  of  joy. 
sEgis.  I  bid  you  hush,  and  open  wide  the  gates, 
That  all  of  Argos  and  Mykenae  see. 
240 


ELECTRA 

So,  if  there  be  that  once  were  lifted  up, 
With  hopes  they  had,  vain  hopes  they  fixed  on  him,    " 
Now  seeing  him  dead,  they  may  receive  my  curb, 
And,  finding  me  their  master,  sense  may  gain, 
Without  coercion. 

Elec  Yea,  my  task  indeed 

is  done  ;  for  I  at  last  have  wisdom  gained, 
To  work  with  those  more  mighty. 

\Tht  doors  are  thrown  open,  and  disclose 
ORESTES  and  PYLADES  standing  by  the 
dead  body  of  CLYTEMNESTRA,  covered  with 
a  sheet  and  a  veil  over  the  face. 

JEgis.  Lo,  I  see, 

O  Zeus,  a  form  that  lies  there,  fallen  low, 
Not  without  wrath  of  Heaven  (should  that  word  stir 
Heaven's  jealousy,  I  wish  it  all  unsaid). 
Withdraw  the  veil  which  hides  the  face,  that  I 
To  kindred  blood  may  pay  the  meed  of  tears. 

Ores.  Do  thou  uplift  it.     'Tis  thy  task,  not  mine,  147° 
To  look  on  this,  and  kindly  words  to  speak. 

JEgis.  Thou  giv'st  good  counsel,  and  I  list  to  thee  : 
And  thou,  if  yet  she  tarries  in  the  house, 
Call  Clytemnestra. 

Ores.    [As  ^GISTHOS  lifts  the    veil.}    Here   she    lies 

before  thee  ! 
Seek  her  not  elsewhere. 

JEgis.  Oh,  what  sight  is  this ! 

Ores.  Whom  fearest  thou  ?     Who  is  't  thou  dost  not 
know  r 

Mgls.  Into  whose  snares,  whose  closely-tangled  mesh, 
Have  I,  poor  victim,  fallen  ? 

Ores.  See'st  not  yet 

That  thou  did'st  greet  the  living  as  the  dead  ? 

&gis.  Ah  me  !   I  catch  thy  words.     It  needs  mu»t 

be 
This  is  Orestes  who  now  speaks  to  me. 


ELECTRA 

Ores.  Wert    thou    then    tricked,  who  dost  divine  so 

well  r 

JEgts.  I  then  am  lost,  woe  's  me  !   yet  let  me  speak 
One  little  word. 

Elec.  Give  him  no  leave  to  speak, 

By  all  the  Gods,  my  brother,  nor  to  spin 
His   long   discourse.     When    men    are    plunged    in 

ills, 

What  gain  can  one  who  stands  condemned  to  die 
Reap  from  delay  ?     No,  slay  him  out  of  hand, 
And,  having  slain  him,  cast  him  forth,  to  find 
Fit  burial  at  their  hands  from  whom  'tis  meet 
That  he  should  have  it,  far  away  from  view 
Thus  only  shall  I  gain  a  remedy 
For  all  the  evils  of  the  years  gone  by. 

Ores.  [To  ^GISTHOS.]  Go  thou  within,  and  quickly. 

Now  our  strife 
Is  not  of  words,  but  for  thy  life  itself. 

JEgii.  Why    dost    thou    force    me    in  ?     If  this    be 

right, 

What  need  of  darkness  ?     Why  not  slay  at  once  ? 
Ores.  Give  thou  no  orders,  but  where  thou  did'st 

slay 
My  father,  go,  that  thou  too  there  may'st  die. 

j£gij.  Is  it  then  doomed  this  house  should  see  the 

ills 
Of  Pelops'  line,  both  present  and  to  come  ? 

Ores.    Yes,    thine  :    of  that,  at  least,    I    'm   prophet 

true. 
Mffs.  The   skill  thou   boastest  came   not    from   thy 

sire. 

Ores.  Still  thou  dost  bandy  many  idle  words,          [1MO 
And  length'nest  out  the  way.     Move  on. 

Lead  thou. 


Ores.  Not  so.     Thou  must  go  first. 

Dost  think  I  '11  flee  ? 
242 


ELECTRA 

Orej.  Thou  must  not  die  the    death    thou  would'it 

desire  ; 

I  needs  must  make  it  bitter.     Doom  like  this 
Should  fall  on  all  who  dare  transgress  the  laws, 
The  doom  of  death.     Then  wickedness  no  more 
Would  multiply  its  strength. 

Cher.  O  seed  of  Atreus,  after  many  woes, 
Thou  hast  come  forth,  thy  freedom  hardly  won, 
By  this  emprise  made  perfect !  Bw 


BND    OF    PART    I. 


Press  of  Isaac  Pitman  &-  Sons,  Bath,  England. 
o — (2351) 


SOPHOCLES 


SOPHOCLES 


TRAGEDIES 

AND 

FRAGMENTS 


Translated  ly  the  lat» 

E.  H.  PLUMPTRE  D.I). 

'Dean  of  H' tils 


WITH  NOTES  RHYMED 
CHORAL  ODES  AND 
LYRICAL  DIALOGUES 


IN     TWO    VOLUMES 
VOL     II 


BOSTON    U.S.A. 

D.  C    HEATH  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
1914 


CONTENTS 

Front iifiect — COLONOS:    From  a  Drawing  by 
Hedley  Fitton 

Pag, 
THE  MAIDENS  or  TRACHIS    .         .         .         .         9 

AIAS 55 

PHIIOCTETFS           •'•!••<      IOJ 
FRAGMENTS   . 159 

RHYMED  CHORAL  ODES  AND  LYRICAL  DIALOGUES 

From  CEoipus  THE  KING        .         •         .         .     183 

CEoiPtrs  AT  COLONOS  .         ,         .190 

ANTIGONE  .         .         ,         .          ,         .198 

ELECTRA     .         .          .         .         ,          .211 

THE  MAIDENS  or  TRACHIS  .         .     221 

AIAS  ......     232 

PHILOCTETU 245 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

HERACLES.  Elder. 

HYLLOS,  son  of  HERACLES.  DEIANEIRA,  wife  ^HERACLES. 

LICHAS.  a  ktrald.  Attendant. 

Messenger.  lOLE,  a  captive  maiden. 

Nurst.  Chorus  of  Trachinian  Maidens. 

ARGUMENT. — (Eneus,  king  of  Phuron  in  Mtolia,  had  A 
fair  daughter,  Deianeira,  and  many  sought  her  in  marriage, 
chiefly  the  river  god  Acheloos,  whom  she  dreaded  even  to  look 
upon.  And  Heracles  came,  and  conquered  the  river  god,  and 
took  Deianeira  as  his  bride.  And  as  they  journeyed  to  Tiryns, 
they  passed  the  stream  Euenos,  where  Nessos  the  Kentaur 
was  wont  to  carry  travellers  across.  And  as  he  bore  Deianeira, 
he  laid  rude  hands  on  her,  and  Heracles,  seeing  this,  shot  him 
with  an  arrow,  that  had  been  dipped  in  the  venom  of  tht 
Lernxan  hydra, ;  and  Nessos,  as  he  died,  gave  a  rag,  dipped 
in  the  blood  of  his  wound,  to  Deianeira,  and  told  her  that  it 
would  be  a  love-charm  to  win  back  her  husband's  heart, 
should  he  ever  prove  unfaithful.  And  they  lived  together, 
and  she  bore  him  Hyllos  and  other  children;  and,  though 
Heracles  was  light  of  love,  yet  she  never  used  the  charm,  but 
kept  her  soul  in  patience. 

And  for  many  years  Heracles  went  to  and  fro,  fulfilling 

the  labours  which  Eurystheus  laid  upon  him,  and,  when  these 

were  over,  being  sore  vexed,  in  his  rage  he  slew  Iphitos,  the 

son  of  Eurytos,  king  of  (Echalia,  who  had  provoktd  him, 

9 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

and  for  this  Zeus  sentenced  him  to  serve  Omphalefor  a  whole 
year  in  Lydia.  And  Dciantira  fled  from  Tiryns,  for  fear  of 
Eurystheus,  and  abode  at  Trachis.  Now  when  the  year  of 
bondage  to  Omphalc  was  over,  Heracles,  being  in  love  with 
lole,  daughter  of  Eurytos,  invaded  her  father's  kingdom,  and 
laid  it  waste,  and  sent  lole  and  other  captive  women  to  Tiryns, 
while  he  stayed  to  offer  sacrifice  to  Zeus  after  his  victory. 
And  all  this  time  Dcianeira  remained  at  home  in  much  fear 
and  trembling. 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

SCENE — TRACHIS,  in  the  courtyard  O/DEIANIIRA'S  house. 

Enter  DEIANEIRA,  Attendant,  and  Chorus  o/"Trachinian 
Maidens. 

Deian.  'Tis  an  old  saying,  told  of  many  men, 
"  Thou  canst  not  judge  man's  life  before  he  die, 
Nor  whether  it  be  good  or  bad  for  him ;  *M 
But  I,  before  I  tread  the  paths  of  death, 
Know  that  my  life  is  dark  and  full  of  woe, 
Who,  dwelling  in  my  father  CEneus'  house, 
At  Pleuron,  had,  of  all  ^Etolian  maids, 
Most  cause  to  shrink  from  marriage ;  for  my  hand 
The  river  Acheloos  came  to  seek, 
In  triple  form  my  father  suing  for  me  ; 
At  one  time  as  a  bull  in  bodily  form, 
Then  as  a  dragon  wound  his  speckled  length, 
And  then  with  human  trunk  and  head  of  ox, 
And  from  his  shaggy  beard  there  flowed  the  streams 
Of  his  clear  fountains.1     Such  a  suitor  I, 
Receiving  sadly,  wished  that  I  might  die 

i  The  proverb  itself,  like  most  maxims  of  the  same  kind,  came 
to  be  associated  with  a  conspicuous  name,  and  appears  in  Hero- 
dotos  as  the  great  lesson  which  Solon  tried  to  impress  on  the  mind 
of  Crcesos. 

a  It  may  be  worth  while  to  note  the  analogies  which  suggested 
the  symbolic  forms.  In  the  strength  of  the  river,  and  the  sound  of 
its  many  waters,  men  found  what  reminded  them  of  the  bull  As 
they  saw  its  windings  through  the  plain,  it  seemed  like  a  great 
serpent.  The  figure  of  the  human  form,  with  the  head  of  an  ox,  em- 
bodied the  feeling  that  the  river  setmed  to  wind  "  as  its  own  sweet 
will." 

IS 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Ere  I  approached  his  bed.     And  then  there  came, 

Later,  indeed,  yet  much  beloved  by  me, 

Zeus'  noble  son,  whom  fair  Alcmena  bore, 

Who,  wrestling  with  him  in  the  strife  of  war, 

Wrought  out  my  rescue.     What  the  mode  of  fight 

I  tell  not,  for  I  know  not.     He  might  tell 

Whoe'er  could  gaze  unshrinking  at  the  sight; 

For  I  was  there,  struck  down  with  panic-fear 

[Lest  all  my  beauty  should  but  bring  me  woe ;] 

But  Zeus,  the  God  of  battles,  gave  to  us 

Good  issue,  if  in  truth  it  be  but  good ; 

For,  sharing  now  the  bed  of  Heracles 

By  special  grace,  I  cherish  fear  on  fear, 

Still  pining  for  him.     Night  brings  woe  with  it, 

*And  if  it  bids  it  go,  night  but  receives 

Fresh  trouble  still.     Yea  !  sons  were  born  to  us ; 

And  like  a  husbandman  who  tills  the  soil 

Of  distant  field,  and  seej  the  crop  but  once, 

Sowing  and  reaping,  so  is  he  to  them ; 

Such  course  of  life  still  sends  my  husband  home, 

And  far  from  home,  in  servile  labour  bound 

To  one  we  know.     And  now  when  he  has  reached 

The  goal  of  all  these  labours,  most  of  all 

I  sit  and  shudder.     Since  he  smote  the  might 

Of  Iphitos,  we  here  in  Trachis  dwell 

Far  from  our  land,  and  with  a  stranger  host ; 

And  where  he  is,  none  knows.     But  he  has  left 

In  this  his  flight  full  bitter  pangs  for  me, 

And  half  I  know  he  bears  some  weight  of  woe, 

For  no  short  time  is  passed,  but  ten  long  months 

Added  to  five,  and  still  no  message  comes. 

And  some  sore  woe  comes  on  ;  for  so  it  tells, 

The  tablet  which  he  left  us,  and  I  pray 

The  Gods  that  gift  may  not  bring  woe  to  me. 

Attend.  My  mistress,  Deianeira,  I  have  seen  thee 
Bewailing  oft,  with  loud  and  bitter  wails, 


THE   MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 

The  absence  of  thy  Heracles ;  but  now, 

(If  it  be  right  with  bond-slave's  thoughts  to  school 

Those  that  are  free,  and  I  must  speak  for  thee), — 

How  comes  it  thou  art  rich  in  many  sons, 

Yet  sendest  none  to  track  thy  husband's  steps  ? 

Not  even  Hyllos,  whom  'twere  fit  to  send, 

If  he  care  aught  about  his  father's  fate, 

To  find  it  prospering.     And  lo  !  he  comes, 

Just  at  the  moment,  speeding  by  the  house. 

So,  if  I  seem  to  give  thee  counsel  good, 

Thou  may'st  at  once  make  use  of  him  and  it.  * 

Enter  HYLLOS. 

Deian.  My  son,  dear  boy,  good  words  of  counsel  fall 
E'en  from  the  meanest.     Lo  !   this  woman  speaks, 
Slave  though  she  be,  a  free  and  noble  speech. 

Hyllos.  What  was  it,  mother  ?    Tell  me,  if  thou  may'st. 

Deian.  That  not  to  seek  where  now  thy  father  dwells, 
After  such  length  of  absence,  brings  thee  shame. 

Hyllos.  Yet  if  one  trust  to  rumours,  I  know  well. 

Deian.  And  where  dost  hear,  my  son,  that  he  abides  ? 

Hyllos.  Long  while,  from  seed-time   unto  seed-time 

round, 
They  say  he  served  a  Lydian  lady's  will.1 

Deian.  Could  he  do  that,  one  might  hear  anything. 

Hyllos.  But,  so  I  hear,  from  this  he  has  escaped. 

Deian.  Where  now,  or  dead  or  living,  tell  they  of  him  ? 

Hyllos.  'Tis  said  that  he  makes  war,  or  plans  to  make, 
On  some  Euboean  town  of  Eurytos'. 

Deian.  And  dost  thou  know,  my  son,  that  he  has  left 
With  me  true  oracles  of  that  same  land  ? 

Hyllos.  What  were  they,  mother  ?     I  know  nought  of 
them. 

Deian.  This,  or  that  he  shall  find  the  end  of  life, 

1  The  characteristic  effeminacy  of  the  Lydian  men  made  bondage 
to  a  Lydian  woman  the  extremes!  degradation. 
'3 


THE   MAIDENS   OF    JRACHIS 

Or  having  this  his  task  accomplished, 
Shall,  through  the  coming  years  of  all  his  life, 
Rejoice  and  prosper.     When  the  scales  thus  hang, 
Wilt  thou  not  go,  my  child,  to  give  thy  help, 
*When  either  we  a  great  deliverance  gain, 
*Or,  if  he  perish,  perish  too  with  him  ? 

Hjllos.  Yes,  I  will  go,  my  mother.     Had  I  known 
The  utterance  of  these  oracles,  long  since 
I  had  been  there.     And,  now  that  I  have  heard, 
I  will  not  fail  in  aught  to  learn  the  truth,  M 

The  whole  truth,  of  these  matters.     Yet  the  fate 
Which  waits  upon  my  father  gives  no  cause 
For  hasty  dread  and  over-anxious  care. 

Deian.  Go  then,  my  son.     To  hear  he  prospers  well, 
Though  one  hear  late,  brings  balance  large  of  gain. 

[Exit  HYLLOS. 
STROPHE  I 

Chor.  Thee,  whom  the  Night,  star-spangled,  bringeth 

forth, 

Smitten  and  spoiled  by  thee, 
Whom,  in  thy  strength  of  fire, 
She  lulls  to  calmest  couch,1 
On  thee  I  call,  our  sun-god,  Helios, 

Tell  this,  where  now  he  dwells, 
Alcmena's  noble  son,  (Thou  ever  bright, 

In  sheen  of  glory  clad  ;) 

Or  in  the  sea's  deep  glades, 
Or  taking  rest  in  either  continent  ?* 

Tell  this,  O  Lord,  whose  eye 

Sees  with  surpassing  might. 

1  The  words  embody  the  old  mythos  that  the  sun  each  night  lay 
down  to  rest  in  a  winged  boat  in  the  far  West,  and  that  the  boat 
bore  him  over  the  great  ocean  till  he  appeared  once  again  in  the 
East. 

2  In  the  earliest  Greek  geography  the  earth  was  divided  into  two 
continents  only,   Africa— of  which  but   little    was    known— being 
groured  now  with  Europe  and  now  with  Asia, 

14 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
For,  lo  !  I  hear  that  Deianeira  still, 

Once  wooed  in  many  a  strife, 

Now  like  a  wailing  bird, 

With  sad  and  sore-vexed  heart, 
Can  never  lull  to  rest  the  strong  desire 

Of  eyes  undimmed  with  tears, 
But  ever  nurses  unforgetting  dread 

As  to  her  husband's  paths, 
And  wastes  her  life  in  anxious,  widowed  couch,    " 

Still  looking,  in  her  woe, 

For  doom  of  coming  ill ; 
STROPHE  II 
For  as  one  sees,  when  North  or  South  wind  blows 

In  strength  invincible, 
Full  many  a  wave  upon  the  ocean  wide, 

Sweeping  and  rushing  on, 

So  like  a  Cretan  sea, 

The  stormy  grief  of  life 
Now  bringeth  low  the  son  of  Cadmos  old,1 

Now  lifts  him  up  again  ; 
Yet  some  one  of  the  Gods 
Still  keeps  him  from  the  house  of  Hades  dark, 
As  one  who  may  not  fail. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
Wherefore,  half  blaming  thee,  I  speak  my  words, 

Kindly,  yet  thwarting  thee, 

And  say  thou  should'st  not  fret  away  good  hope  ; 
Not  even  He,  who  reigns  in  glory  crowned, 

The  son  of  Cronos  high, 
Hath  given  to  men  a  painless  heritage, 
•But  still  the  whirling  courses  of  the  Bear 

Bring  grief  and  joy  in  turn. 

1  Heracles,  as  being  of  Thebes,  is  described  as  the  son  of  the 
mythical  founder  of  the  city. 

IS 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 


For  neither  does  the  spangled  night  remain, 
Nor  the  dark  Fates,  nor  wealth,  abide  with  men ; 
Quickly  they  leave  this  man,  and  pass  to  that, 

Both  joy,  and  loss  of  joy  ; 
And  this,  I  say  that  thou,  our  queen,  should'st  have 

For  ever  in  thy  hopes. 
For  who  hath  known  in  Zeus  forgetfulness 

Of  those  He  children  calls  ? 

Deian.  Thou  comest,  one  may  guess,  as  having  learnt 
My  many  woes  :  yet  may'st  thou  never  know, 
(As  now  thou  knowest  not,)  by  suffering  taught, 
How  I  consume  my  soul.     The  tender  plant 
Grows  in  such  climes  where  neither  God's  hot  sun, 
Nor  storm,  nor  any  blast  may  trouble  it, 
But  in  pure  joy  it  lives  its  painless  life, 
Until  that  hour  when  maiden  gains  the  name 
Of  wife,  and  gains  her  share  of  nightly  grief,  M 

Or  caring  for  her  husband,  or  her  babes. 
Then  might  one  see,  by  that  experience  taught, 
How  I  am  crushed  with  sorrows.     Many  a  woe 
Have  I  wept  bitter  tears  for.     Now  of  one 
I  '11  tell  thee,  which  I  never  knew  before ; 
For  when  our  king,  our  Heracles,  went  forth 
From  home  for  his  last  journey,  then  with  me 
He  leaves  a  tablet,  old,  and  written  o'er 
With  special  rules,  which  never  until  then 
Had  he  the  heart  to  tell  me,  though  he  went 
On  many  a  labour,  but  still  started  forth, 
As  one  about  to  prosper,  not  to  die.  w 

But  now,  like  one  as  good  as  dead  he  told 
What  chattels  I  should  take  as  marriage  dower, 
What  shares  of  all  their  father's  land  he  gave 
In  portions  to  his  sons,1  and  fixed  a  time 

1  The  division  connects  itself  with  the  mythos  of  the  return  of  the 
Heracleidae  to  claim  the  whole  Peloponnesos  as  their  inheritance 
16 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

That  when  for  one  whole  year  and  three  months  more 

He  from  this  land  was  absent,  then  'twas  his, 

Or  in  that  self-same  hour  to  die,  or  else, 

Escaping  that  one  crisis,  thenceforth  live 

With  life  unvexed.     Such  things,  he  said,  stood  firm   lro 

By  doom  of  Gods,  and  thus  the  end  would  come 

Of  all  the  labours  wrought  by  Heracles  ; 

For  so,  he  said,  Dodona's 1  ancient  oak 

Had  spoken  by  the  voice  of  twin-born  doves. 

And  of  these  things  the  unerring  truth  is  come, 

This  very  hour,  as  fate  decreed  it  should  ; 

And  so,  my  friends,  while  sleeping  sweetest  sleep, 

I  start  in  fear  and  terror,  lest  I  live 

Bereaved  of  him,  the  noblest  man  of  all. 

Chor.  Hush  such  ill-omened  words  ;  for,  lo  !   I  see 
One  coming  crowned,  as  if  for  joyful  news. 

Enter  Messenger,  his  head  crowned  with  lauret. 

Mess.  My  mistress,  Deianeira,  first  of  all 
That  come  as  couriers,  I  will  free  thy  soul 
From  every  fear.     Know  then,  Alcmena's  son 
Is  living,  and,  victorious  in  the  fight, 
Brings  his  first-fruits  unto  his  country's  Gods. 

Deian.  What  news  is  this,  old  man,  thou  bring'st  to 
me? 

Mess.  That  he,  thy  husband,  praised  of  many  men, 
Will  soon  appear  in  strength  of  victory. 

Deian.  What  townsman,  or  what  stranger,  told  thee 
this  ? 

Mess.  In  the  wide  meadow  where  the  oxen  graze, 

1  The  oracles  at  Dodona,  given  by  the  Pelasgic  Zeus  in  the  land 
of  the  Thesprotians,  were  uttered  from  a  grove  of  oaks.  At  first 
the  Selli  were  the  interpreters,  then  three  aged  priestesses.  Then 
grew  up  the  mythos  (rising  partly  from  a  play  on  words,  that  two 
doves  had  flown  from  Egyptian  Thebes,  and  that  one  of  them  flew 
to  the  oracle  at  Dodona,  the  other  to  that  of  Ammon  in  the  Libyan 
oasis. 

u  »7  » 


THE   iMAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Lichas  the  herald  tells  it  to  the  crowd, 

And  I,  thus  hearing  him,  rushed  forth  at  once,  "° 

That  I  might  be  the  first  to  tell  it  thee, 

Gain  some  fair  guerdon,  and  thy  favour  win. 

Delan.  If  all  goes  well,  why  comes  he  not  himself? 
Mess.  But  little  ease  is  there  for  him,  O  lady ; 
For  all  the  Melian  people  stand  around, 
With  eager  quest,  nor  has  he  power  to  move, 
For  each  one  seeks  to  learn  the  uttermost, 
And  will  not  slack  his  craving  till  he  hear 
His  heart's  desire.     Thus  he,  against  his  will, 
With  them,  to  meet  their  will,  abides  a  while  ; 
But  thou  shalt  see  him  stand  before  thee  soon. 

Deian.  O  Zeus,  who  rulest  (Eta's  unmown  mead,1   ** 
Though  tardily,  thou  giv'st  us  fullest  joy. 
Shout,  O  ye  maidens,  shout,  beneath  the  roof, 
And  ye  beyond  the  courtyard,  for  we  gain 
From  this  report  a  light  of  rising  dawn 
We  had  not  dared  to  hope  for. 
Chor.  Let  all  within  exult, 

That  wait  their  wedded  joy, 

With  shouts  on  altar-hearth  ; 
And  with  them  let  the  stronger  voice  of  men 
Proclaim  thy  name,  Apollo,  guardian  God, 

Lord  of  the  quiver  bright, 
And  ye,  O  maidens,  Psean,  Psean  raise ;  ** 

Shout  out  his  Sister's  name, 

Ortygian2  Artemis, 
Who  smites  the  fawn,  torch-armed  in  either  hand, 

With  all  the  neighbouring  Nymphs. 
I  spring  aloft,  I  can  no  more  withstand 
The  flute's  clear  voice,  O  sovereign  of  my  soul. 

Behold,  it  stirs  and  works, 

1  Meadows  consecrated  to  the  Gods  were  never  ploughed  or 
mown. 

2  The  epithet  was,  in  the  first  instance,  applied  to  Artemis  in  her 
temple  at  Chalkis  in  Atolia. 

ll 


THE    MAIDENS  OF   TRACHIS 

Evoi !  Oh,  Evoi ! 

The  ivy-wreath  that  leads  me  back  again 
To  hottest  strife  of  Bacchic  revelry.  1*> 

lo  !  Oh,  lo ! 
Psan  !  Oh,  Paean  ! 
Look  thou,  dear  lady,  look  ; 
Before  thy  face  they  come, 
And  thou  may'st  see  them  clear. 

Enter  LICHM,  followed  by  IOLE  and  a  company  of 
Captive  Women, 

Deian.  I  see  it,  O  my  friends,  nor  does  it  'scape 
Mine  eye's  keen  watch  that  I  should  fail  to  note 
This  proud  array.     I  welcome  thee,  O  herald, 
Though  thou  com'st  late,  if  thou  bring'st  welcome  news. 

Lichas.  Well  are  we  come,  and  we  are  greeted  well, 
For  what  we  gain  in  act.     It  needs  must  be 
That  one  who  prospers  should  receive  good  words. 

Deian.  Ah  !  dearest  friend,  first  tell  me  what  I  first 
Desire  to  know.     Come  Heracles  alive  ? 

Lichas.  I,  for  my  part,  left  him  in  strength  of  health, 
Living  and  well,  unsmitten  of  disease. 

Deian.  And  where  ?    At  home,  or  on  a  foreign  soil  ? 

Lichas.  There  is  a  high  Eubcean  promontory 
Where  he  now  marks  his  altars'  limits  out, 
His  first-fruits  offering  to  Kenaean  Zeus.1 

Deian.  Fulfilling  vows,  or  led  by  oracles? 

Lichas.  The  vows  he  made  when  with  his  spear  he 
sacked  24° 

The  city  of  these  women  whom  thou  see'st. 

Deian.  And  these,  in  Heaven's  name,  who  and  whence 
are  they  ? 

-  The  promontory  itself  was  named  Kenseon,  and  there  men 
pointed  to  the  temple  of  Zeus  at  the  summit,  and  the  tomb  of  Lichas. 
What  is  described  is  not  merely  the  act  of  sacrifice,  but  the  con- 
secration of  the  ground  for  ever,  as  the  fruits  of  his  conquest  of  the 
lands. 

»9 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Full  sad,  unless  they  cheat  me  with  their  grief. 

Llchas.  These,  when  he  sacked  the  town  of  Eurytos, 
He  chose  his  own  possession  and  the  Gods'. 

Detan.  And  was  it  against  that  city  that  he  went, 
That  endless  time  of  days  innumerable  ? 

Lichas.  Not  so.  By  far  the  longest  time  he  spent 
In  Lydia  ;  not,  so  says  he,  of  free  choice, 
But  sold  as  slave.     Let  not  my  tale,  dear  lady, 
Move  thee  to  wrath,  when  Zeus  himself  appears 
The  doer  of  the  deed.     And  he,  being  sold1 
To  Omphale,  the  alien,  so  he  said, 
Served  one  whole  year,     And  thus,  his  soul  being  vexed 
At  this  reproach,  he  vowed  a  bitter  vow 
That  he  would  bring  to  bond-slave's  low  estate, 
With  wife  and  child,  the  man  who  caused  this  shame  : 
Nor  did  he  speak  in  vain  ;  but  when  his  guilt 
Was  cleansed,  he  came,  with  army  hired  to  help, 
Against  the  town  of  Eurytos ;  for  he, 
So  said  he,  of  all  men  that  live,  alone 
Was  guilty  of  that  suffering,  in  that  he, 
When  Heracles  had  come,  in  hearth  and  home 
An  old  guest-friend,  provoked  his  soul  with  words, 
And  many  things  spake  out  in  baneful  mood  ; 
As  this,  that  he,  though  having  in  his  hands 
His  deadly  darts,  in  skill  of  archery 
Would  fall  below  his  children,  and  that  he 
*Wore  out  his  life  a  slave  instead  of  free  ; 
And  once  at  feast-time,  staggering  with  the  wine, 
He  cast  him  out.     And  then,  in  wrath  for  this, 
When  Iphitos  to  yon  Tirynthian  hill  "' 

Came  tracking  out  the  course  of  wandering  steeds, 
With  eyes  that  looked  this  way,  and  thoughts  turned 

that, 
He  hurled  him  headlong  from  the  tower-like  crag. 

1  The  mythos  ran  that  Zeus,  wroth  at  the  murder  of  Iphitos,  sent 
Hermes  to  sell  Heracles  to  Omphale. 
ao 


THE   MAIDENS  OF   TRACHIS 

And  full  of  wrath  for  this  thing  that  he  did, 

Olympian  Zeus,  the  father  of  us  all, 

Sent  him  forth  sold  in  bondage,  spared  him  not, 

Because  he  slew  this  man,  alone  of  men, 

With  base  deceit ;  for,  had  he  come  on  him 

In  open  fight,  then  Zeus  had  pardoned  him 

With  justice  conquering  ;  for  wanton  wrong 

Not  even  Gods  can  bear  with.     Those  that  waxed       *** 

Too  haughty  in  the  pride  of  evil  speech 

Are  dwellers  now  in  Hades,  all  of  them, 

Their  city  captured.     These  thou  look'st  upon, 

Falling  from  high  estate  to  piteous  life, 

Now  come  to  thee  :  for  so  thy  husband  charged, 

And  I,  his  faithful  servant,  do  his  will. 

And  as  for  him,  when  he  pure  sacrifice 

Has  offered  unto  Zeus,  his  fathers'  God, 

For  that  great  capture,  think  of  him  as  near; 

Of  all  things  spoken  well  the  sweetest  this.  "° 

Chor.  Now,  O  my  queen,  thou  see'st  thy  joy  full  clear, 
Part  close  at  hand,  part  learning  by  report. 

Dfian.  How  can  I  but  rejoice  with  all  my  heart, 
Hearing  my  husband's  high  prosperity? 
[Needs  must  that  that  should  go  along  with  this ;] 
And  yet,  for  those  who  scan  and  look  around, 
Is  cause  to  fear  for  one  who  prospers  much, 
Lest  he  too  fail.     Sad  pity  creeps  on  me, 
My  friends,  when  I  behold  these  wretched  ones 
In  a  strange  land  as  homeless,  fatherless ; 
And  they  who  sprang,  perchance,  from  free-born  sires, 
Now  lead  the  life  of  bond-slaves.     Grant,  O  Zeus, 
Thou  God  averting  evil,  that  I  ne'er 
May  see  Thee  coming  thus  against  my  seed, 
Nor,  if  Thou  needs  must  work  Thy  will  on  them, 
Fulfil  it  while  I  live.      Such  dread  I  feel 
Beholding  these.    [To  IOLE.]    O  hapless  one,  what  lot, 
A  maiden's,  or  a  mother's,  falls  to  thee  ? 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Thy  growth  and  form  would  say  that  thou  had'st  known 

None  of  these  things  ;  and  sure  they  witness  too 

That  thou  art  nobly  born.     Come,  Lichas,  say 

Whose  daughter  is  this  stranger  ?     Who  her  mother,   81° 

And  who  the  father  that  begat  her  ?     Speak, 

For  more  than  all  my  whole  heart  pities  her, 

As,  more  than  all,  her  soul  is  quick  to  feel. 

Lichas.  How  should  1  know  ?     Why  ask'st  thou  me  : 

Perchance 
She  springs  from  those  not  held  in  least  repute. 

'Deian.  Of  royal  race?     The  seed  of  Eurytos  ? 

Lichas.  I  know  not,  for  I  did  not  question  much. 

Deian.  Has  none  of  her  companions  told  her  name  ? 

Lichas.   Not  so.     My  work  in  silence  I  performed. 

Deian.  \To  IOLE.]   Tell  me,  at  least,  O  sad  one,  of 

thyself. 
['Tis  sorrow  not  to  know  thee  who  thou  art.] 

Lichas.  I  trow  that  now  she  will  not  utter  words, 
True  to  her  former  self,  that  would  not  speak 
Of  matters  small  or  great,  but  ever  sad, 
In  travail  sore  with  weight  of  bitter  chance, 
She  weeps  and  weeps,  since  first  she  left  her  home, 
Where  all  the  winds  sweep  wildly.     This  her  state 
Is  ill  for  her,  and  yet  it  calls  for  pity. 

Deian.  Let  her  then  be,  and  go  within  the  house, 
Just  as  may  please  her  best,  nor  let  her  have 
Fresh  grief  from  me,  as  added  unto  those 
She  bears  already.     That  which  now  she  has 
Is  full  enough.     And  now  let  all  of  us 
Go  to  the  house,  that  thou  may'st  hasten  on 
Where  thou  desirest,  and  that  I  may  set 
In  meet  array  what  calls  for  care  within. 

[Exeunt  LICHAS,  IOLE,  and  the  other  captives, 
DEIANEI  RA  following. 

Mess.  {Stopping  DEIANEIRA  on  her  way  out.]  First  tarry 
here  a  little  while  and  learn, 


THE   MAIDENS  OF   TRACHIS 

Apart  from  these,  whom  thou  dost  lead  within, 
And  what  thou  hast  not  heard,  may  now  learn  well, 
For  I  have  got  the  whole  truth  of  these  things. 

Deian.  What  means  this  ?     Wherefore  dost  thou  stop 
me  thus  ? 

Mess.  Stand  thou,  and  list ;  for  neither  did'st  thou  hear 
An  idle  speech  before,  nor  now,  I  trow. 

Deian.  Shall  we,  then,  call  those  strangers  back  again  f 
Or  wilt  thou  tell  thy  tale  to  me  and  these  ? 

Mess.  Nought  hinders  thee  and  these.    Let  those  alone. 

Deian.  And  they  indeed  are  gone  ;  so  tell  thy  tale. 

Mess.  Of  all  he  said  this  man  not  one  word  speaks 
With  truth  and  right,  but  either  basest  now, 
Or  else  before,  as  falsest  herald  came. 

Deian.  What  say'st  thou  ?     Tell  me  clearly  what  thou 

mean'st ; 
I  nothing  know  of  all  the  things  thou  say'st.  *** 

Mess.  I,  I  myself  heard  this  man  say  aloud— 
Yes,  before  many  hearers — that  our  lord, 
For  this  girl's  sake,  did  conquer  Eurytos, 
And  captive  take  high-towered  CEchalia  ; 
That  Love  alone  of  all  the  Gods  that  are 
Had  charmed  him  to  achieve  this  enterprise, 
And  not  what  passed  in  Lydia,  nor  his  toil 
In  bondage  unto  Omphale,  nor  fate 
Of  Iphitos  ;  and  this  man,  thrusting  back 
All  speech  of  Love,  says  just  the  contrary. 
But  when  he  could  not  win  her  father's  will 
To  give  his  child  to  share  clandestine  bed, 
He,  with  some  cause  of  quarrel  furbished  up, 
Invades  the  country  ruled  by  Eurytos, 
And  slays  the  king  her  father,  and  lays  low 
Her  city  ;  and,  as  thou  beholdest  now, 
He  brings  her  to  this  house  (believe  it,  lady) 
Not  without  purpose,  no,  nor  as  a  slave  ; 
Look  not  for  that :  it  is  not  probable, 
23 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

When  he  has  been  so  hot  in  his  desire. 

So  it  seemed  good  to  tell  the  truth  to  thee, 

The  whole  truth  as  I  heard  it  from  this  man  ; 

And  many  heard  it  also,  e'en  as  I, 

In  all  the  throng  of  Trachis'  market-place  ; 

So  thou  may'st  test  the  truth.     And  if  I  speak 

Unwelcome  news,  I  too  am  grieved  indeed  ; 

But  at  all  costs  I  speak  the  right  and  true. 

Deian.  Oh  !  woe  is  me  !     What  fate  is  come  on  me  r 
What  mischief  have  I  brought  beneath  my  roof, 
In  secret  lurking  ?     Ah  !  and  was  she  then 
Without  a  name,  as  he  who  brought  her  swore  I 

Mess.  Noble  is  she  in  beauty  as  in  race, 
The  daughter  of  the  house  of  Eurytos, 
And  lole  her  name,  of  whose  descent 
He  nothing  asked,  forsooth,  and  nothing  told. 

Chor.  A  curse  on  all  the  wicked,  most  of  all, 
On  him  who  loves  ill  deeds  of  secret  guile. 

Deian.  What  must  I  do,  my  friends  ?     As  one  o'er- 

whelmed, 
I  stand  perplexed  by  this  report  we  hear. 

Chor.  Go,  ask  the  man,  for  he,  perchance,  will  speak 
Clear  answers,  if  thou  question  roundly  with  him. 

Deian.  And  I  will  go ;  for  wisely  thou  dost  speak. 

Mess.  Shall  we  remain  ?     Or  what  is  right  to  do  ?    tM 

Deian.  Remain  ;  for  here  the  man  approaches  us, 
Not  summoned,  but  self-bidden,  from  the  house. 

Enter  LICHAS. 

Lichas.  What  message  hast  thou,  queen,  for  Heracles  ? 
Tell  me,  for  I,  thou  see'st,  am  on  my  way. 

Deian.  How  quickly,  having  come  with  lingering  time, 
Thou  startest,  ere  we  can  our  talk  renew. 

Lichas.  Here  am  1,  if  thou  seek'st  to  question  me. 

Deian.  And  wilt  thou  give  thy  pledge  of  truthful 
speech  ? 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Lickas.  In  all  things  I  do  know,  so  help  me,  Zeus. 
Dtian.  Who  then  is  this,  the  maid  thou  bring'st  to 
us?  «° 

Lichas.  Euboean  is  she.     What  her  birth  I  know  not. 
Mess.  Ho,  then  !     Look  here.     Dost  know  to  whom 

thou  speak'st  ? 
Lichas.  And  thou,  why  ask'st  thou  question  such  as 

this  ? 

Mess.  Be  bold,  and  speak,  if  thou  my  meaning  see'st. 
Lichas.   I  speak  unto  the  queenly  Deianeira, 
Daughter  of  CEneus,  wife  of  Heracles, 
My  mistress  too,  unless  J  see  amiss. 

Mas.  'Twas  this  I  wished  to  learn  from  thee.     Thou 

say'st 

That  she  stands  here,  thy  mistress  ? 
Lichas.  Rightly  so. 

Mess.  Well,  then,  what  forfeit  wilt  thou  rightly  pay,  4I° 
If  thou  be  found  as  one  doing  wrong  to  her  ? 

Lichas.    "  Doing   wrong  ? "     What   cunning   riddles, 

pray,  are  these  ? 

Mess.  None  here,  'tis  thou  hast  gone  too  far  in  that. 
Lickas.  I  go  :  I  was  a  fool  to  list  so  long. 
Mess.  Not  so,  before  thou  answerest  one  small  word. 
Lichas.  Say  what  thou  wilt.     Thou  art  not  taciturn. 
Mess.  That  captive  whom   thou   broughtest  to   this 

house, 
Dost  thou  know  her  ? 

Lichas.  E'en  so.     Why  askest  thou  ? 

Men.  Did'st  thou  not  say  that  she  whom  thou  did'st 

bring, 

*On  whom  thou  look'st  with  such  blank  ignorance, 
Waslole,  the  child  of  Eurytos? 

Lichas.  Among  what   men  ?     Say,  who  and  whence 

is  he 
Shall  come  and  witness  that  he  heard  me  say  it  ? 

Mess.  Full  many  a  townsman  :     In  the  market-place 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Of  Trachis  all  the  crowd  did  hear  thy  speech. 

Lickas.  I  said  I  heard  it,  but  'tis  not  the  same 
To  speak  one's  guess,  and  vouch  the  matter  true. 

Mess.  "  One's  guess ! "     And  did'st  not   thou   assert 

with  oath 
That  thou  did'st  bring  her,  bride  for  Heracles  ? 

Lickas.  "  His  bride  !  "     By  all  the  Gods,  my  mistress 

dear, 
Tell  of  this  stranger,  who  and  what  he  is. 

Mess.  One  who  was  by  and  heard  thee,  when  thou 

said'st 

How  through  desire  for  her  the  city  fell, 
And  how  'twas  not  the  Lydian  dame,  but  love 
For  this  fair  maid  that  brought  it  to  the  dust. 

Lichas.  Bid  the  man  go,  dear  lady.     Thus  to  prate 
With  one  of  mind  diseased  is  hardly  sane. 

Deian.  Now,  by  great  Zeus,  who  flashes  forth  his  fire 
On  yon  high  glens  of  (Eta,  cheat  me  not, 
I  charge  thee,  of  the  truth.     Thou  dost  not  tell 
Thy  tale  to  wife  of  evil  mood,  nor  one 
Who  does  not  know  men's  ways,  and  how  their  wont 
Is  not  to  love  the  same  for  evermore ;  **" 

And  one  who  stands  in  combat  against  Love, 
As  athlete  in  close  conflict,  scarce  is  wise. 
For  he  reigns  high,  supreme  above  the  Gods, 
And  sways  them  as  he  will  ;  (yea,  sways  my  soul, 
And  why  not  then  another's,  like  to  me  ?) 
So,  should  I  blame  my  husband  for  his  fate 
In  catching  this  disease,  I  should  indeed 
Have  lost  my  reason  ;  or  if  I  should  blame 
This  woman,  guilty  of  no  shameful  deed, 
Or  wrong  against  me.     No.     It  is  not  so  ; 
But  if,  being  taught  by  him,  thou  speakest  false, 
Then  thou  hast  learnt  a  lesson  far  from  good, 
And,  if  thou  art  self-taught  in  this  deceit, 
Then,  when  thou  seek'st  to  play  the  part  of  good, 
26 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

Thou  shalt  be  seen  as  evil.     Nay,  but  speak 

The  truth,  the  whole  truth.     No  good  fate  is  that, 

When  one  free-born  must  bear  the  liar's  name. 

How  can'st  thou  'scape  detection  ?     There  are  many 

To  whom  thou  said'st  it,  who  will  tell  it  me  ; 

And  if  thou  fearest,  thou  dost  ill  to  shrink, 

For  not  to  learn,  that  might  indeed  distress  me  ; 

But  how  can  knowledge  harm  me  ?     Has  he  not, 

Our  Heracles,  of  all  the  men  that  live, 

Wedded  most  wives,  and  yet  not  one  of  them 

Has  had  from  me  or  evil  speech  or  taunt, 

Nor  will  she  have,  though  she  in  love  for  him 

Should  melt  and  pine  ;  for  lo  !  I  pitied  her 

When  first  I  saw  her,  for  her  beauty's  sake  ; 

For  it,  I  knew,  had  wrecked  her  life's  fond  hope, 

And  she,  poor  soul,  against  her  will,  had  wrought 

The  ruin  of  her  fatherland,  and  brought 

Its  people  into  bondage.     Let  all  this 

Go  to  the  winds.     For  thee  I  bid  thee,  I, 

Be  base  to  others,  but  to  me  be  true. 

Char.  Yes,  hearken  thou  to  her  considerate  speech, 
And  then  in  time  to  come  thou  shalt  not  blame 
This  woman,  and  from  me  shalt  favour  win. 

Lickas.  Well,  then,  dear  mistress,  since  I  see  that  thou, 
Being  human,  hast  a  human  heart,  and  know'st 
No  stubborn  purpose,  I  will  tell  thee  all, 
The  whole  truth,  nought  concealing.     All  is  so 
As  this  man  tells  thee.     Strong  desire  for  her 
L»id  seize  on  Heracles,  and  so  her  land, 
CEchalia,  was  laid  waste  by  armed  host, 
And  brought  full  low.     And  this  (for  I  must  tell 
His  doings  also)  he  nor  bade  conceal 
Nor  yet  denied,  but  I  myself,  dear  lady,  ^ 

Fearing  to  grieve  thy  heart  with  these  my  words, 
Did  sin,  if  thou  dost  count  it  as  a  sin. 
And  now,  since  thou  dost  know  the  whole  of  things, 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

For  his  sake  and  for  thine,  full  equally, 
Treat  the  girl  kindly,  and  those  words  of  thine 
Thou  said'st  of  her,  be  firm  and  true  to  them, 
For  he,  whose  might  prevails  in  all  things  else, 
In  all  is  conquered  by  his  love  for  her. 

Deian.  We  share  thy  thoughts,  will  do  as  thou  hast 
said,  "• 

And  will  not  stir,  by  fighting  with  the  Gods, 
The  ill  now  brought  upon  us.     Let  us  go 
Within  the  house,  that  thou  may'st  bear  my  message, 
And  gifts  for  gifts  which  it  is  meet  to  send, 
That  thou  may'st  take  them,  for  it  were  not  right 
That  thou  who  cam'st  with  such  a  company 
Should  go  back  empty.  [Exeunt  DEIANEIRA,  LICHAS, 

and  Messenger. 
STFOPH* 

Chor.  Great  is  the  conquering  might 
Which  she  of  Kypros  boasteth  evermore. 
I  hasten  by  what  touches  on  the  Gods, 

And  will  not  even  tell 
How  she  beguiled  the  son  of  Kronos  old, 

Or  Hades  of  the  dark, 
Or  him  who  shakes  the  earth,  Poseida&n ; 

But  who  for  this  fair  bride, 

As  well-matched  rivals  came, 

Before  the  marriage-feast  r 
Who  fought  in  many  a  struggle  sore  and  sharp, 
Blows  thickly  falling,  wrestlings  in  the  dust  ? 

ANTISTROPHE 

A  mighty  stream  was  one, 
Dread  form  of  monster  bull,  with  lofty  horn, 
The  torrent  Acheloos,  river-God, 

Come  from  (Eniadae,1 

1  CEniadae,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Acheloos  in  Acarnania. 
28 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

And  one  from  Thebes  which  Bacchos  owns  as  his,       "• 

Wielding  his  pliant  bow, 
His  spear  and  club,  the  son  of  Zeus  supreme. 

So  they  in  conflict  met, 

Urged  on  by  hot  desire  ; 

And  She,  of  Kypros  queen, 
Alone  stood  by,  fair  source  of  marriage  joy, 
Wielding  her  rod  of  umpire's  sovereignty. 

EPODK 

Clash  of  hands  and  darts, 

And,  mingling  with  them  both, 

The  din  of  horns,  were  there, 

Limbs  intertwined  with  limbs, 

Fierce  blows  from  butting  head, 
And  loud  deep  cries  on  either  side  were  heard 
And  she  in  beauty  delicate  and  fair, 
Sat  still  awaiting  her  appointed  lord, 
Where  from  the  hill  the  prospect  far  was  seen 

Such  is  the  tale  we  tell, 

*E'en  as  her  mother  saw ; 

And  lo  !   the  bride's  fair  face, 

The  prize  of  all  the  strife, 

Still  piteously  abides, 

And  from  her  mother's  care 

She,  like  lorn  heifer,  strays. 

Enter  DEI  AN  E  IRA. 

Detan.  While,   O    my   friends,   the    stranger   speaks 

within, 

To  those  poor  captives,  as  about  to  start, 
I  come  without  to  see  you  secretly, 
In  part  to  tell  you  what  my  hands  devise, 
In  part  to  crave  your  pity  for  my  wrongs. 
This  maiden  I  receive, — and  yet  I  trow 
No  longer  maid,  but  one  already  wed, — 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

As  sailor  who  takes  in  a  troublous  freight, 
So  a  bad  bargain  I  receive  in  her, 
Poor  wage  for  all  my  love.     And  so  we  share, 
We  twain,  th'  embrace  one  coverlet  conceals. 
Such  is  the  meed  of  all  my  care  of  home, 
That  Heracles,  whom  men  call  true  and  good, 
Hath  sent  to  me  for  all  my  years  of  toil ; 
And  I  indeed  have  found  it  hard  to  feel 
Fierce  wrath  against  him,  with  this  fell  disease 
Sore  smitten  as  he  is.     But  who  could  bear, 
What  woman's  heart,  with  such  a  one  to  dwell, 
And  share  one  bed  with  her  ?     Her  bloom  I  see 
Still  coming  on,  and  mine  begins  to  wane  ; 
*And  well  I  know  the  eye  is  wont  to  seize 
*That  blossom  fair,  and  turn  the  foot  from  age. 
And  so  I  fear  lest  Heracles  be  found 
My  lawful  spouse,  but  husband  fond  and  true 
Of  her  the  younger.     But,  as  I  have  said, 
It  is  not  good  a  wife  of  judgment  sound 
Should  show  her  anger.     Therefore,  O  my  friends, 
I  tell  you  what  I  have  as  remedy 
To  set  me  free.     A  gift  long  since  I  had 
From  the  old  Kentaur  stored  in  vase  of  bronze, 
Which  I,  while  yet  a  girl,  from  Nessos  had, 
As  he,  with  swarth,  rough  mane,  did  bleed  to  death, 
For  he  was  wont  to  carry  men  for  pay 
Across  Evenos'  deep  and  torrent  stream, 
Nor  plying  oars,  nor  spreading  sail  of  ship. 
And  he,  when  first,  as  bride  of  Heracles, 
I  followed  from  my  father's  house  sent  forth, 
Upon  his  shoulders  bore  me,  and,  mid-stream, 
With  rude  hands  touched  me.     And  I  shouted  out ; 
And  then  the  son  of  Zeus  quick  turned,  and  shot 
A  winged  dart,  which,  whizzing  through  the  breast, 
Pierced  to  the  lungs.     And  then  the  monster  spake 
In  agony  of  death  thus  much  :  "O  child 
3» 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Of  CEneus  old,  if  thou  wilt  list  to  me, 

Some  profit  of  my  ferryings  thou  shalt  have,  §w 

Since  thee  I  bore  the  last.     If  thou  wilt  take 

The  clotted  blood  that  oozes  from  my  wound, 

Where  the  Lernaean  hydra,  monster  dread, 

The  darts  in  dark  gall  dipped,  this,  this  shall  be 

Thy  love-charm  o'er  the  soul  of  Heracles, 

That  he  shall  never  look  on  woman  fair, 

And  love  her  more  than  thee."     And  I,  dear  friends, 

Recalling  this,  (for,  on  his  death,  within 

I  kept  it  safely  stored,)  have  dipped  this  robe, 

And  added  all  things  that  he  bade  me  do,  68° 

While  yet  he  lived  ;  and  now  'tis  fully  done. 

Base  deeds  of  daring  may  I  never  know, 

Nor  learn  that  lesson  ;  those  that  dare  I  hate. 

But  if  by  love-spells  meant  for  Heracles, 

We  can  in  anywise  this  girl  o'ercome, 

The  thing  is  planned  and  done,  unless  I  seem 

To  you  to  work  in  vain;  if  so,  I  cease. 

Char.   If  there  be  ground  for  faith  in  what  thou  dost, 
Thou  seem'st  to  us  not  badly  to  have  planned. 

T)eian.  Thus  stands  my  faith,  I  think  it  probable,     *° 
While  yet  I  have  not  made  experiment. 

Chor.  But  thou  should'st  know  by  act,  for  thinking 

only 
Without  a  trial  gives  no  certain  proof. 

Deian.  Well,  we  shall  know  full  soon,  for  lo  !  he  stands 
E'en  now  outside  the  door,  and  quickly  comes; 
Only  keep  ye  my  counsel.     In  the  dark, 
Though  thou  work  shameful  things,  thou  'scapest  shame. 

Enter  LICHAS. 

Lichas.  Come,  child  of  CEneus,  tell  me  what  to  do ; 
For  we  long  time  have  loitered  in  delay. 

Deian.  This  very  thing  I  have  been  doing,  Lichas,  *°° 
While  thou  within  did'st  to  those  strangers  speak, 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

That  thou  should'st  take  this  stately-woven  robe. 
Gift  to  my  husband  from  these  hands  of  mine. 
And  when  thou  giv'st  it  say  that  none  that  lives, 
Prior  to  him  must  wear  it  on  his  flesh, 
Nor  must  the  light  of  sunshine  look  on  it, 
Nor  sacred  shrine,  nor  flame  of  altar  hearth, 
Before  he  stands,  conspicuous,  showing  it 
On  day  of  sacrifice,  in  sight  of  Gods. 
For  so  I  vowed,  if  I  should  see  him  safe 
At  home,  or  hear  his  safety  well  assured, 
To  clothe  him  with  this  tunic,  and  send  forth 
•The  glorious  worshipper  in  glorious  robe  ; 
And  thou  shalt  take  a  token  of  these  things, 
Which  he,  the  seal  beholding,  will  know  well. 
But  go  thy  way,  and  first  take  heed  to  this, 
Being  but  a  courier,  not  to  meddle  much ; 
And  next  so  act  that  from  myself  and  him, 
Our  thanks  from  single  may  as  twofold  come. 

Lifhas.  As  true  as  I  serve  Hermes  in  my  work,          •* 
A  trusty  messenger,  I  will  not  fail 
To  take  and  give  this  package  as  it  is, 
And  add  good  proof  of  all  thy  messages. 

Deian.  Now  then  start  forth,    for    thou    dost   know 

right  well 
How  things  within  our  dwelling  chance  to  stand. 

Liehas.  I  know,  and  I  will  say  that  all  is  well. 

Deian.    And  how    the    stranger    maiden    fares,    thou 

know'st, 
[Seeing  that  warm  welcome  I  received  her  with.] 

Liehas.  So  much  so,  that  my  heart  leapt  up  for  joy. 

Deian.  Why  should'st  thou  tell  aught  else  ?  for  much 
I  fear  «° 

Lest  thou  should'st  tell  my  longing  love  for  him, 
Before  we  know  if  he  doth  long  for  us. 

[Exit  LICHAS  ;  DEIANEIRA  withdraws 
into  her  house. 


THE   MAIDENS    OF   TRACHIS 

STROPHE  I 
Cbor.  O  ye  that  dwell  along  the  harbour's  shore, 

Or  by  the  rock's  hot  streams,1 

And  (Eta's  mountain  slopes, 

Or  the  mid  Melian  lake, 
Or  by  Her  shore  who  owns  the  golden  darts, 
Where  the  high  courts  of  all  the  Hellenes  meet, 

From  Pylas  named  of  old. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
Soon  will  the  clear-voiced  flute  return  to  you 

With  no  unfitting  strain, 

But  like  a  lyre  with  hymn 

And  song  the  Gods  approve  ;J 
For,  lo !  the  hero  whom  Zeus  owns  as  son, 
Of  fair  Alcmena  born,  hastes  home  to  us, 

With  trophies  of  high  worth. 
STROPHE  II 

Him  we,  (for  twelve  long  months, 
Still  waiting,  knowing  nought  of  all  that  passed,) 
Counted  as  wanderer  far  upon  the  sea  ; 

And  she,  his  dear-loved  wife, 

Weeping  with  many  tears, 
Full  sadly  wore  her  saddened  heart  away, 

But  Ares,  roused  to  rage, 

Hath  freed  us  from  our  dark  and  troublous  days. 
ANTISTROPHE  II 

Ah  may  he  come,  yea,  come  ! 

1  The  rock's  hot  streams  are  those  between  the  mountains  and 
the  coast  which  gave  a  name  to  the  narrow  pass  of  Thermopylae. 
The  Melian  lake  is  strictly  a  gulf.     The  goddess  of  the  golden  darts 
is  Artemis,  the  guardian  of  all  the  havens  of  Thessaly.     The  "  high 
Courts  of  the  Hellenes"  are  the  Amphictyonic  assemblies  that  held 
their  sessions  near  Thermopylae. 

2  Ordinarily  the  "  flute"  was  the  accompaniment  of  wild  ecstatic 
songs  and  dances.     "  Now,"  the  Chorus  says,  "  it  shall  be  subdued 
into  a  calm,  serene  music  like  that  of  the  lyre  at  festivals  of  the 
Gods." 

u  33  e 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

Let  not  his  ship  of  many  oars  lie  to, 
Before  this  city  welcomes  his  approach  ; 

Leaving  the  island  hearth, 

Where  he  his  victim  slays, 
'Thence  may  he  come,  yea,  come  with  strong  desire,  ""° 

Tempered  by  suasive  spell, 
Of  that  rich  unguent,  as  the  Monster  spake. 


Enter  DEiANEiRAy/ow  the  house. 

Deian.  Ah,  women  !  how  I  fear  lest  all  I  did 
But  now  be  found  as  having  gone  too  far. 

Chor.  What  now,  O  child  of  CEneus,  Deianeira  I 

Deian.  I  know  not  ;  but  I  tremble  lest  too  soon 
I  seem  with  fair  hopes  to  have  wrought  great  ill. 

Chor.  Not  from  those  gifts  thou  gav'st  to  Heracles  ? 

Deian.  Yes.     It  is  that  ;  and  never  more  would  I 
Bid  any  yield  to  impulse  hazardous.  87° 

Chor.  If  thou  may'st  tell  it,  tell  me  what  thou  dread'st. 

Deian.  Thus  much  has  happened,  O  my  friends,  most 

strange, 

For  you  to  hear,  yea,  passing  all  belief: 
For  that  with  which  but  now  I  did  anoint 
The  stately  snow-white  robe,  a  lock  of  wool, 
This  is  all  gone,  by  nought  within  consumed, 
But,  self-devoured,  it  withers  and  decays, 
And  crumbles  on  the  surface  of  the  stone. 
And  that  thou  may'st  the  whole  strange  story  know, 
How  this  was  done,  I  will  unfold  the  tale  ; 
For  I,  of  all  the  monster  Kentaur  taught, 
(His  side  sore  smitten  with  the  bitter  dart,) 
No  precept  left  undone,  but  kept  them  all, 
Like  writing  on  a  tablet-book  of  bronze, 
Which  nothing  may  wash  out.     And  this  command 
Was  given,  and  this  I  did,  to  keep  the  charm 
Medicinal,  untouched  by  fire,  or  sun, 
In  sheltered  closet,  till  the  hour  should  come 
34 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

To  use  the  fresh-spread  unguent.     Thus  I  did  ; 

And  now  the  time  to  act  was  come,  I  spread  it, 

Within  the  house,  in  secret,  with  a  lock 

Of  fleecy  wool  from  oft"  mine  own  sheep  cut ; 

And  then  I  folded  it,  and  placed  it  safe, 

Untouched  by  sunlight,  in  a  hollow  chest, 

The  gift,  as  ye  have  seen.     And  now,  within 

Adventuring,  I  behold  a  marvel,  strange 

To  tell,  by  human  thought  unfathomable  ; 

For  I,  by  chance,  had  flung  the  wisp  of  wool, 

In  full  broad  sunshine.     Then  as  it  grew  hot 

It  melts  away,  and  crumbles  in  the  earth, 

In  look  most  like  to  saw-dust  one  may  see 

Where  men  work  timber  ;  so  it  fell  and  lay, 

And  from  the  earth  where  it  had  lain,  there  oozed 

Thick  clots  of  foam,  as  when  in  vintage  bright, 

Rich  must  is  poured  upon  the  earth  from  vine 

Sacred  to  Bacchos  ;  and  I  know  not  now 

Which  way  of  thought  to  turn,  but  see  too  well 

That  I  have  done  a  deed  most  perilous. 

What  cause  had  he,  the  Kentaur,  dying  then, 

To  wish  me  well  on  whose  account  he  died  ? 

It  cannot  be.     But  seeking  to  destroy 

The  man  that  smote  him,  he  beguiled  my  soul  ; 

And  I,  too  late,  when  knowledge  nought  avails,  no 

That  knowledge  gain.     For,  if  my  soul  errs  not, 

I,  I  alone  (ah  me  !)  shall  work  his  death  ; 

For  well  I  know  the  piercing  dart  sore  vexed 

E'en  Cheiron,  though  a  God,1  and,  where  it  smites, 

Lays  low  in  death  all  monsters.     Can  it  be 

That  this  black  venom,  oozing  from  his  wounds, 

With  blood  commingled,  shall  not  slay  him  too  ? 

1  The  legend  ran  that  when  the  Kentaurs  took  refuge  in  Cheiron's 
cave  on  Pelion,  Heracles,  who  was  pursuing  them,  wounded 
Cheiron  in  the  knee,  and  he,  being  a  God,  could  neither  be  healed 
nor  d:e,  till  Zeus  gave  leave  to  him  to  descend  to  Hades  in  lieu  of 
Prometheus. 

35 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

So  I  at  least  must  deem  ;  yet  deem  I  too 

If  he  shall  die,  that  I  shall  die  with  him 

By  that  same  death-stroke  ;  since  for  one  to  live 

With  evil  fame  who  makes  her  chiefest  boast 

Not  to  be  evil,  that  is  hard  to  bear. 

Chor.  We  needs  must  shrink  at  thought  of  dreadful 

deeds, 
Yet  should  not  count  too  soon  on  good  or  ill. 

Deian.  Not  so,  not  so  ;  in  schemes  that  are  not  good 
There  is  no  hope  to  give  one  confidence. 

Chor.  And  yet  for  those  who  sin  not  wilfully 
Anger  is  softened  ;  and  that  case  is  thine. 

Deian.  Such  words  one  well  might  speak,  who  does 

not  share 
The  ill,  on  whom  no  evil  presses  close. 

Enter  HYLLOS. 

Chor.  'Twere  well  that  thou  should'st  cease  all  further 

speech, 

Unless  thou  sayest  aught  to  this  thy  son  ; 
For  here  he  comes  who  went  to  seek  his  sire. 

Hyllos.  My  mother,  I  could  wish  one  thing  of  three — 
Or  that  thou  should'st  no  longer  live  ;  or  else 
Live,  and  be  called  my  mother  nevermore  ; 
Or  gain  in  some  way  better  heart  than  now. 

Deian.  What  is  there,  son,  thus  worthy  of  thy  hate  \ 

Hyllos.  Know,  of  thy  husband,  whom  I  father  call, 
Thou  art,  this  very  day,  the  murderess. 

Deian.  Ah   me,   my  son  !    what  word    is    this   thou 
bring'st  ? 

Hyllos.  One  which  no  power  on  earth  can  cancel  now  ; 
For  who  can  make  undone  what  once  has  been  ? 

Deian.  What  say'st  thou,  O  my  son  ?     By  what  man 

taught, 
Say'st  thou  that  I  have  done  so  base  a  deed  ? 

Hyllot.  I,  with  these  eyef  my  father's  piteous  fate 
36 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Myself  beholding,  to  no  tales  gave  heed. 

Deian.  Where  did'st  thou  meet  him  ?     Where  stand 
by  and  see  ? 

Hyllos.  If  thou  must  learn,  'tis  well  to  tell  thee  all. 
When  he  had  sacked  the  town  of  Eurytos, 
Renowned  in  story,  and  was  on  his  way 
With  trophies  and  first-fruits  of  victory,  "• 

There  stands  a  high  Euboean  promontory, 
Keneian  named,  sea-washed  on  either  side, 
And  there  to  Zeus,  his  father,  he  marks  out 
His  altars,  and  the  consecrated  grove, 
And  there  with  eager  welcome  first  I  saw  him  ; 
And,  when  about  to  offer  sacrifice 
Of  many  victims,  Lichas  comes  from  home, 
His  home-reared  herald,  bearing  in  his  arms 
Thy  gift,  the  fatal  robe.     And  he,  arrayed 
In  it,  as  thou  did'st  bid  him,  slaughtered  there 
Twelve  oxen  tall,  the  first-fruits  of  the  spoil  ;  76° 

But  altogether,  cattle  great  and  small, 
A  hundred  did  he  offer.     First,  poor  wretch, 
With  soul  serene,  rejoicing  to  be  decked 
In  that  apparel,  thus  he  made  his  prayers. 
But,  when  the  blood-fed  flame  from  resinous  pine 
And  from  the  holy  things  began  to  blaze, 
There  came  a  sweat  upon  his  flesh,  and  lo  ! 
As  though  fresh  glued  by  some  artificer, 
The  tunic  folds  around  his  every  joint, 
And  through  his  bones  there  went  convulsive  starts, 
And  when  the  venom  of  the  hateful  snake 
Devoured  his  flesh,  he  called  poor  Lichas  to  him, 
In  nothing  guilty  of  this  crime  of  thine, 
And  asked  with  what  device  he  brought  the  robe. 
And  he,  poor  wretch,  nought  knowing,  said  the  gift 
Was  thine  alone,  as  thou  did'st  bid  him  say. 
And  when  he  heard  it,  and  a  spasm  of  pain 
Had  seized  his  chest,  he  grasped  him  by  the  foot, 
37 


THE   MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 

Just  where  the  ancle  hinges  on  its  joint, 

And  hurled  him  on  the  rock,  on  either  side 

Washed  by  the  waters  ;  then  from  curling  locks 

The  white  brain  gushed,  his  skull  being  split  in  twain,1 

With  blood  commingled.     And  a  cry  went  up, 

A  cry  of  all  the  people,  as  they  saw 

So  tortured  one,  and  one  so  foully  slain. 

And  no  one  dared  to  go  and  face  the  man, 

For  strange  convulsions  drew  him,  now  to  earth, 

Now  lifted  up,  with  cries  of  agony, 

And  all  the  rocks  re-echoed  his  complaints, 

The  Locrian  headlands  and  Eubcean  capes. 

And,  when  his  spirit  failed,  full  oft  he  dashed 

Himself  upon  the  earth,  full  oft  he  groaned, 

Cursing  his  marriage  that  he  made  with  thee, 

That  wedlock  fraught  with  evils,  and  the  ties 

With  CEneus  made,  how  great  a  bane  he  found  them 

Wearing  his  life.     And  when  from  out  the  smoke 

That  clung  around  he  turned  his  eye  askance, 

And  saw  me  in  the  midst  of  all  the  host, 

Weeping  for  grief,  he  gazed,  and  called  on  me. 

"  My  son,  come  hither,  turn  not  thou  aside 

From  this  my  trouble,  even  though  'twere  thine 

To  die  as  I  am  dying.     But,  I  pray, 

Bear  me  away ;  and  chiefly,  place  me  there 

Where  never  mortal  eye  may  look  on  me  ;  ** 

Or  from  this  land,  at  least,  if  pity  move  thee, 

With  all  speed  bear  me,  that  I  die  not  here." 

And  when  he  thus  had  charged  me,  in  mid-ship 

We  placed  him,  and  to  this  land  steered  our  way, 

He  groaning  in  convulsions,  and  ere  long 

Or  living  or  just  dead  wilt  thou  behold  him. 

1  Popular  tradition  in  the  time  of  ^Eschylos,  (p.  29,)  pointed  to  a 
rock  in  the  Eubrean  gulf  as  the  grave  of  Lichas.  Later  legends 
found  a  human  form  in  the  rock,  and  told  that  the  victim  had  been 
transformed  into  the  rock  (Ovid  Metap.,  ix.  226). 

38 


THE    MAIDF.NS   OF   TRACHIS 

Such  deeds,  my  mother,  'gainst  my  father  thou 

Wast  seen  to  have  planned  and  acted,  and  on  thee 

May  sternest  Justice  and  Erinnyes  swift 

Inflict  their  vengeance,  .  .  .  if  that  prayer  be  right,  .  .  . 

And  right  it  is,  for  thou  the  right  hast  scorned, 

Murdering  the  noblest  man  of  all  the  earth, 

Of  whom  thou  ne'er  shalt  see  the  like  again. 

[Exit  DEIANEIRA,  s/ow/y,  and  defpondingly. 

Chor.  [To  DEIANEIRA,  as  she  goes.]  Why  creep'st  thou 

off  in  silence  ?     Know'st  thou  not 
That  silence  but  admits  the  accuser's  charge  ? 

Hyllos.  Let  her  creep  off.    Fair  wind  go  with  her  now, 
As  she  creeps  on  away  from  these  mine  eyes : 
What  need  to  vainly  cherish  vainest  show 
Of  mother's  name,  where  mother's  acts  are  not  ? 
No  !     Let  her  go,  in  God's  name,  and  the  joy 
She  gives  my  father,  may  it  fall  on  her.  [Exit.     ' 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  See,  O  ye  maidens  fair, 
How  even  now  there  comes  upon  our  view 

The  word  of  augury, 
Sprung  from  high  foresight  in  the  days  of  old, 

Which  said  the  earing-tide 
Of  the  twelfth  year  should  come  in  cycle  full,1 
And  bring  the  son  of  Zeus  a  rest  from  toil ; 

And  now,  with  prosperous  breeze, 

It  speeds  unto  its  end  ; 
For  how  can  he,  who  sees  no  more  the  light, 

Still  serve  in  tasks  of  toil  ? 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
For  if  the  Kentaur's  craft 
Wraps  him,  resistless,  in  dark  cloud  of  death, 

i  Deianeira  had  dwelt   on  the  oracle  which   promised  a  great 
change  after  an  absence  of  fifteen  months.     The  Chorus  looks  back 
to  an  earlier  prediction  given  twelve  years  before. 
39 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

While  the  thick  venom  melts, 
Which  death  brought  forth  and  spotted  dragon  fed, 

How  can  he  see  the  light 

Of  other  day  than  this, 
*Wasting  away  with  hydra's   earful  spell, 

While,  still  in  varied  forms, 

The  subtly  working  pangs 
Of  him,  the  beast  with  rough  and  swarthy  mane, 

Torture  with  fiercest  heat  ? 

STROPHE  II 

And  she,  ill-starred  one,  seeing  a  great  wrong 
Rush  with  no  lingering  on  her  hearth  and  home, 

From  new-formed  marriage  ties 
Gave  but  small  heed  to  what  had  passed  of  old, 
Nor  what  had  come  from  stranger's  counsel  false, 

With  issues  of  dread  doom. 

Full  sure  she  now  bewails, 
Full  sure  she  weeps  fresh  dew  of  plenteous  tears; 

And  Fate,  in  onward  course, 
Brings  forth  a  subtle,  great  calamity. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

It  bursts  full  stream,  the  fountain  of  hot  tears ; 
The  plague  (oh,  heavens !)  spreads  over  every  limb, 

The  like  of  which  from  foes 
Ne'er  came  to  vex  the  far-famed  son  of  Zeus. 
Ah  !  the  dark  point  of  champion's  foremost  spear, 

Which  then  bore  off  the  bride, 

Won  by  the  right  of  war, 
From  high  CEchalia's  peaks !  while  dumbly  working 

She  who  o'er  Kypros  reigns, 
Is  seen  the  mighty  doer  of  the  whole. 

nt  Maiden.  Am  I  deceived,  or  do  I  hear  indeed 
The  sound  of  wailing  coming  from  the  house  ? 
What  shall  1  say  ? 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

2nd  Maiden.         No  doubtful  voice  I  hear, 
But  miserable,  wailing  cry  within  ; 
And,  lo  !  our  house  is  on  the  eve  of  change. 

Enter  Nurse. 

yd  Maiden.  Look  then  on  her  who  comes  with  tight- 
drawn  brow, 
Old  and  in  sorrow,  as  with  news  to  tell.  m 

Nurse.  Oh,  girls !     No  little  evil  has  it  caused, 
That  fatal  gift  she  sent  to  Heracles. 

Chor.  Oh,  full  of  years !   What  new  deed  tell'st  thou  of? 

Nurse.  Moving  no  step  has  Deianeira  gone 
The  very  last  of  all  her  ways  on  earth. 

Chor.  Thou  dost  not  speak  of  death  ? 

Nurse.  My  tale  is  told. 

Chor.  And  is  she  dead  f 

Nurse.  Again  thou  hearest  it. 

Chor.  Poor  doomed  one,  and  how  was  it  that  she  died  ? 

Nurse.  In  way  most  piteous. 

Chor.  With  what  death,  I  pray  ? 

Nurse.  She  slew  herself.  «» 

Chor.  What  madness  or  disease 

With  blow  of  deadly  weapon  slew  her  too  ? 
And  how,  alone,  none  with  her,  did  she  thus 
Add  death  to  death  F 

Nurse.  With  stroke  of  ruthless  blade. 

Chor.  And  did'st  thou  see,  O  babbler,  this  foul  deed  ? 

Nurse.  I  saw  it  clear,  as  standing  close  at  hand. 

Chor.  What  was  it  I     Tell,  I  pray.  »° 

Nurse.  With  her  own  hands 

She  did  the  deed. 

Chor.  What  say'st  thou  ? 

Nurse.  Things  too  clear. 

Chor.  Truly  this  new-found  bride 
Brings  forth,  brings  forth  to  those  who  dwell  with  us 
A  great  calamity. 

4* 


THE    MAIDENS    OF   TRACHIS 

Nurse.  Too  great  indeed,  and  had'st  thou  stood  and 

seen 
What  things  she  did  thou  would'st  have  pitied  her. 

\Chor.  And  could  a  woman's  hand  cause  woe  so  great  ? 

Nurse.  'Twas  dreadful  :    but  thy  witness   thou   shalt 

bear, 

Hearing  my  tale,  that  I  have  told  the  truth  ;] 
For  when  she  came  alone  within  the  house, 
And  saw  her  son,  within  the  palace  courts, 
A  hollowed  couch  preparing,  that  he  might 
Go  back  to  meet  his  father,  she,  concealed 
Where  none  might  see  her,  on  the  altar  fell, 
And  wailed  aloud  that  they  were  desolate, 
And  wept,  poor  wretch,  still  touching  household  things 
Which  use  had  made  familiar.     Wandering  round, 
Now  here,  now  there,  throughout  her  dwelling-place, 
If  she  perchance  some  faithful  servant  saw, 
The  poor  soul  wept,  as  she  did  look  on  them, 
Still  calling  out  upon  her  evil  fate,  "• 

Her  future  lot  of  utter  childlessness  : 
And  when  this  ceased,  I  see  her  suddenly 
Rush  wildly  to  the  bed  of  Heracles, 
And  I,  close  hidden,  with  a  secret  eye, 
Watched  her,  and  saw  her  lay  the  coverlet 
Outspread  upon  the  couch  of  Heracles  ; 
And  when  this  ended,  leaping  in,  she  sat, 
Just  in  the  very  centre  of  the  bed  : 
And  weeping  scalding  tide  of  many  tears, 
Thus  spake  she  :  "  Ah,  my  bridal  bower,  and  bed,        *" 
Henceforth,  farewell  ;  for  never  more  shall  ye 
Receive  me  in  this  couch  a  slumberer." 
And,  saying  this,  with  eager  hand  she  loosed 
Her  robe,  where  golden  buckle  fastened  it 
Below  her  breast,  and  tore  the  garment  off 
From  her  left  arm  and  bosom.     And  I  ran 
With  all  my  strength  to  tell  her  son  of  this 
4* 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

That  she  was  doing.     While  we  went  and  came, 

We  saw  that  she  had  struck  with  two-edged  blade         *so 

Below  the  heart  and  bosom,  and  her  son 

Saw  it,  and  groaned.     For  well  he  knew,  poor  wretch, 

That  he,  in  wrath,  had  driven  her  on  to  this, 

Learning  too  late  from  those  that  are  within 

That  she  against  her  will  had  done  the  deed, 

Led  to  it  by  the  Kentaur.     And  her  son, 

In  deepest  woe,  ceased  not  to  pour  lament, 

Wailing  her  fate,  nor  yet  to  kiss  her  lips, 

But,  falling  side  by  side,  he  lay  and  groaned, 

That  he  had  falsely  brought  a  charge  of  guilt  wo 

Against  her,  wailing  that  he  now  was  left, 

Of  father  and  of  mother  both  bereaved. 

So  stand  things  there  ;  and  if  one  dares  to  count 

On  two  short  days,  or  more,  vain  fool  is  he; 

The  morrow  is  as  nought,  till  one  has  passed 

The  present  day  in  fair  prosperity.  [Exit. 

STROPHE  I 

Chor.  Which  shall  I  wail  for  first  ? 
Which  sorrow  goes  furthest  in  woe  ? 
Hard  question  is  this  to  decide, 
For  me  at  least  in  my  grief. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

One  evil  we  see  close  at  hand, 
And  one  we  await  in  our  fear  : 
And  whether  we  see  or  await, 
The  sorrow  is  equal  in  both. 

STROPHE  II 

Would  that  some  blast  of  the  winds 
Might  rise  with  fair  gale  on  our  hearth, 
And  carry  me  far  from  these  climes, 
That  I  might  not  die  in  my  fear, 
At  the  sight  of  this  strong  son  of  Zeus. 
43 


THE    MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

For,  lo  !  they  say  that  he  comes 
To  his  home  in  pain  none  can  heal, 
A  marvel  of  infinite  woe. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Near,  close  at  hand,  not  far  off, 

I  wailed,  as  a  nightingale  sad  ; 

Dread  steps  of  strangers  draw  nigh. 

And  how  do  they  bear  him  ?     They  come, 

As  mourning  a  friend,  with  hushed  tread  ; 

Silently  so  is  he  borne. 

Ah,  must  we  deem  him  as  dead, 

Or  has  he  fallen  asleep  ? 

Enter  HYLLOS,  Elder,  and  Others,  bearing  HERACLES 
on  a  couch. 

Hyllos.  Ah  me  !  ah  me,  O  my  father  ! 
Ah  me,  for  thee  in  my  woe  ! 
What  must  I  suffer,  ah  me  ! 
What  shall  I  counsel  or  plan  ? 

Elder.  Hush,  my  son  !  lest  thou  stir 
Thy  sore-vexed  father's  woe  ; 
Still  lives  he,  though  he  lies 
Thus  prostrate  on  his  couch  : 
Hush  !   bite  thy  lips  ;  be  still. 

Hyllos.  How  say'st  thou  ?     Doth  he  live  . 

Elder.  Wake  him  not,  plunged  in  sleep  ; 
Move  him  not,  lest  thou  rouse, 
O  boy,  the  dreaded  scourge, 
That  drives  him  in  frenzy  of  soul. 

Hyllos.  Yea  ;  but  on  me,  in  my  woe, 
Presses  a  boundless  grief; 
Wildly  my  spirit  swells. 

Hera.  [Waking.}  Zeus  !   In  what  land  am  1  r 
On  whose  coasts  lie,  laid  low 
Fn  anguish  nought  can  soothe  ? 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACH1S 

Ah  !  once  more  the  dire  pest 
Gnaws  the  heart's  inmost  core. 

Elder.  [To  HYLLOS.]  Did'st  thou  not  know  what  gain 
Lies  in  restraining  speech, 
Not  driving  sleep  from  his  eyes  ?  m 

Hyllos.  And  yet,  beholding  this, 
How  could  I  hold  my  peace  ? 
Hera.  O  thou  Kenasan  rock, 
Where  altars  crown  the  height, 
What  thanks  for  what  great  gifts 
Hast  thou,  O  Zeus,  wrought  out 
For  me  in  my  great  woe  ! 
What,  ah  !  what  great  hurt 
Hast  thou  appointed  me  ' 
Would  that  thou  ne'er  had'st  met 
These  eyes  of  mine,  to  see 

This  crown  of  frenzy  none  have  power  to  soothe  !        100° 
What  charmer,  what  skilled  leech, 
Less  than  great  Zeus  himself, 
Will  soothe  this  direst  woe  ? 
Far  off  is  that  wonder  to  see. 

Ah  !  ah  ! 

Leave  me  to  sleep,  yes,  leave  me,  wretched  one ; 
Leave  me  to  sleep  my  sleep. 
Where  dost  thou  touch  me  ?     Where  move  ? 
Death  thou  wilt  bring ;  yea,  bring  death. 
What  awhile  knew  repose 
Now  thou  dost  stir  again  ; 
It  grasps  me,  creeping  still. 

Where  are  ye,  of  all  men  that  live  on  the  earth  most 

ungrateful  ?  101° 

For  whom  I  of  old,  in  all  forests  and  seas,  slayingmonsters, 

Wore  out  my  life;  and  now,  when  I  lie  sore  smitten 

before  you, 

Not  one  of  you  all  will  bring  the  fire  or  the  sword  that 
will  help  me. 

45 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Ah  me  !  will  no  one  come, 
And,  smiting  my  head,  put  a  stop 
To  this  weary  struggle  of  life  ? 
Ah  !  woe  is  me  !     Woe  is  me  ! 
Elder.  O  boy,  that  art  this  hero's  son,  the  task 
Goes  far  beyond  my  strength.     Do  thou  take  part ; 
Thy  hand  is  stronger  far  than  mine  to  save. 

Hyllos.  I  lay  my  hand  upon  him,  but  to  grant          10* 
A  life  that  shall  forget  its  toil  and  pain, 
This  neither  from  mine  own  nor  others'  help 
Is  mine  to  work.     Zeus  only  giveth  that. 

Hera.  Ah,  boy  !     Where  art  thou,  boy  ? 
Lift  me  a  little.     This  way,  this  way  prop. 

Ah  !  O  ye  Heavens ! 
Again  it  seizes,  seizes  in  dread  strength, 

To  the  grave  bringing  low, 
The  fierce  disease  no  healing  skill  may  reach. 
O  Pallas  !   Pallas !  yet  again  it  stings. 
Have  pity,  my  son,  on  thy  father ;  strike  with  a  sword 

none  will  blame  ; 
Strike  me  under  the  neck,  and  heal  the  pain  which  she 

wrought, 
Thy  mother,  godless  in  guilt.    Ah,  may  I  see  her  brought 

low, 

Slain,  yea,  as  thus  she  slays  ! 
O  Hades,  kind  and  sweet, 
Twin-born  brother  of  Zeus, 
Lull  me,  lull  me  to  sleep, 
With  fate  that  brooks  no  delay, 
Smiting  the  man  worn  with  woe. 
Char.  I  shudder,  as  I  hear,  my  friends,  the  griefs 
With  which  our  king,  being  what  he  is,  is  vexed. 
Hera.  Ah  me  !  full  many  labours  hard  to  tell, 
Many  and  fierce,  with  hand  and  strength  of  back 
Have  I  wrought  out.     And  ne'er  the  wife  of  Zeus 
Such  task  assigned,  nor  yet  Eurystheus  harsh, 
46 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

As  did  that  child  of  CEneus,  steeped  in  guile, 

Casting  around  my  shoulders  such  a  net, 

Erinnys-woven,  that  has  wrought  my  death  ; 

For,  cleaving  to  my  side,  it  eats  within, 

Consuming  all  my  flesh,  and  from  my  lungs, 

Still  winding  in,  it  drains  my  arteries, 

Drinks  the  warm  blood,  and  I  am  done  to  death, 

My  whole  frame  bound  with  this  unheard  of  chain  ; 

And  never  yet  did  host  on  battle-plain, 

Nor  earth-born  troop  of  Giants,  nor  the  might 

Of  savage  beasts,  nor  Hellas,  nor  the  land 

Of  men  that  speak  not,1  nor  the  regions  vast 

I  traversed  clearing,  work  a  deed  like  this  : 

But  she,  a  woman,  woman-like  in  mind, 

Not  of  man's  strength,  alone,  without  a  sword, 

She  has  destroyed  me  ;  and  do  thou,  my  son, 

Prove  thyself  truly  mine,  and  honour  not 

Thy  mother's  name  henceforward  more  than  mine  ; 

But  thou  thyself  with  thine  own  hands  from  home 

To  my  hands  bring  her,  that  I  thus  may  know 

If  thou  dost  mourn  my  sorrow  more  than  hers, 

When  thou  shalt  see  her  body  maimed  and  shamed 

In  righteous  judgment.     Come,  my  son,  be  bold, 

And  pity  me,  in  all  ways  pitiable, 

Who,  like  a  girl  must  weep  and  shriek  in  pain ; 

And  yet  there  lives  not  one  who,  ere  it  came, 

Could  say  that  he  had  seen  this  man  thus  act, 

But  ever  I  bore  pain  without  a  groan ; 

Yet  now  with  this  I  grow  a  woman  weak. 

And  now,  come  thou,  and  near  thy  father  stand, 

And  see  by  what  strange  chance  I  suffer  this  ; 

For  I  will  show  what  lies  below  these  wraps  : 

Come,  all  of  you,  behold  this  wretched  frame, 

1  The  "  land  of  men  that  speak  not  "  is  simply  that  of  the  non- 
Hellenic  races,  whose  speech  seemed  to  the  Greeks  inarticulate  as 
the  chirping  of  choughs  or  swallows. 
47 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Behold  me,  how  I  suffer  piteously.  10* 

Ah,  miserable  me  ! 
Again  the  dart  of  pain  is  fever-hot, 
And  rushes  through  my  breast.     This  cursed  ill, 
So  seems  it,  will  not  leave  me  unassailed, 
Still  eating  on.     O  Hades,  king,  receive  me ; 
Smite  me,  O  flash  of  Zeus  ;  yea,  shake,  O  king, 
Yea,  father,  dart  thy  thunderbolts  on  me  ; 
For  now  once  more  it  eats,  it  grows,  it  spreads. 

0  hands,  my  hands !     O  back,  and  chest,  and  arms 
That  once  were  dear,  there  lie  ye  now  who  once 
Subdued  by  force  the  Nemean  habitant, 

The  lion,  troubler  of  the  flocks  and  herds, 

A  monster  none  might  war  with  or  approach ; 

And  that  Lernaean  hydra,  and  the  host 

Of  Kentaurs,  all  of  double  form,  half-horse, 

Fearful,  and  fierce,  and  lawless,  strong  and  proud, 

The  beast  of  Erymanthos,  and  the  dog 

Of  deepest  Hades,  with  the  triple  head, 

A  portent  awful ;  and  the  dreaded  shape 

Of  that  fierce  serpent,  and  the  dragon  guard 

That  at  the  world's  end  watched  the  golden  fruit ; 

And  thousand  other  toils  I  tasted  of, 

And  no  man  raised  his  trophies  over  me ; 

But  now  thus  jointless,  worn  to  rags  and  shreds, 

By  plague  obscure  I  waste  away  in  woe, 

Who  from  a  noble  mother  took  my  name, 

Reputed  son  of  Zeus  the  star-girt  king : 

But  know  this  well,  that  though  I  be  as  nought, 

As  nothing  creep,  yet,  even  as  I  am, 

1  will  smite  her  who  brought  me  to  this  pass. 
Let  her  but  come  that  she  may  learn,  and  tell 
That  I,  or  dead  or  living,  punished  guilt. 

Chor.  Oh,  wretched  Hellas  !  what  a  weight  of  woe 
Do  I  foresee  if  it  shall  lose  this  man  ! 

Hyllos.  Since  thou,  my  father,  lett'st  me  answer  thee, 
4* 


THE   MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 

By  this  thy  silence,  hear  in  spite  of  pain, 
For  I  will  ask  what  'tis  but  right  to  grant. 
Give  me  thyself,  not  such  as  when  thy  wrath 
Stings  thee  to  frenzy ;  else  thou  shalt  not  know 
In  what  thou  wrongly  seekest  to  rejoice, 
In  what  thou  wrongly  grievest. 

Hera.  Say  thy  say, 

And  hold  thy  peace.     I  nothing  understand, 
In  this  my  pain,  of  all  thy  glozing  speech. 

Hyllos.  I  come  to  tell  thee  of  my  mother's  plight, 
And  how  she  sinned,  yet  most  unwillingly. 

Hera.  Vilest  of  all  the  vile,  and  hast  thou  dared 
To  speak  of  her,  thy  murd'ress  mother,  to  me  ? 

Hyllos.  So  stands  the  case  that  silence  would  be  wrong. 

Hera.  True,  it  were  wrong,  with  all  those  sins  of  hers. 

Hyllos.  Thou  wilt  not  speak  thus  of  this  day's  offence. 

Hera.  Speak  ;  but  look  to  it,  lest  thou  too  prove  base. 

Hyllos.  I   speak,   then.     She   is   dead,   but   now  laid 
low.  I1$0 

Hera.  By  whom  ?    Strange  portent  tell'st  thou  with  ill 
words. 

Hyllos.  By  her  own  hand  :  no  other  struck  the  blow. 

Hera.  Ah  me  !      Ere  I  could  slay  her  as  was  meet  ? 

Hyllos.  Even  thy  wrath  would  melt,  did'st  thou  know 
all. 

Hera.  Dread  is  thy  preface,  yet  tell  out  thy  tale. 

Hyllos.  In  one  short  word,  she  sinned,  desiring  good. 

Hera.  Did  she  do  good,  thou  vile  one,  slaying  me  ? 

Hyllos.  Thinking  to  send  a  charm  to  win  thy  love, 
When  she  thy  new  bride  saw,  she  missed  her  aim.       [114° 

Hera.  And  vvhatTrachinian  boasts  such  skill  in  charms? 

Hyllos.  Nessos,  of  old,  the  Kentaur,  counselled  her 
With  such  a  spell  to  kindle  thy  desire. 

Hera.  Ah  me  !  ah  me  !   I  die  in  wretchedness ; 
I  perish,  perish  :  light  is  gone  from  me. 
Woe  1  woe  i   I  see  what  issue  we  have  reached. 
u  49  D 


THE    MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Come,  O  my  child  ;  thy  father  is  no  more  : 

Call  thou  all  those  that  name  thee  brother  here, 

And  call  the  poor  Alcmena  (all  in  vain 

The  bride  of  Zeus)  that  ye  may  hear,  and  learn 

The  last  of  all  the  oracles  I  know.  115° 

Hyllos.  Thy  mother  is  not  here,  for  so  it  chanced, 
She  dwelleth  now  on  Tiryns'  further  shore  ; 
And  of  thy  children  some  she  rears  with  her, 
And  some,  know  thou,  dwell  under  Theban  towers. 
But  we,  my  father,  that  are  present  here, 
Will  hear  and  do  whatever  thou  shalt  bid. 

Hera.  Hear  then  what  presses.    Thou  hast  reached  an 

age 

When  thou  must  show  what  mould  of  man  thou  art, 
That  thou  art  called  my  son.     For,  lo  !  to  me 
Long  since  it  was  revealed  of  my  Sire 
That  I  should  die  by  hand  of  none  that  live,  116° 

But  one,  who  dead,  had  dwelt  in  Hades  dark  ; 
And  thus  the  Kentaur-monster,  as  was  shown, 
Though  dead,  hath  slain  me  who  till  now  did  live  ; 
And  I  will  show  to  thee  new  prophecies, 
Following  on  these,  agreeing  with  the  old, 
Which  I,  within  the  grove  the  Selli  own,1 
Who  haunt  the  hills,  and  sleep  upon  the  earth, 
Wrote  down  from  that  tall  oak  of  many  tongues, 
To  Zeus,  my  father,  sacred.     And  it  said 
That  in  the  time  that  livcth,  and  now  is, 
Should  come  the  end  of  labours.     And  I  thought        nro 
That  all  would  prosper  ;  yet  it  meant  nought  else 
Than  this  my  death,  for  unto  those  that  die 
No  labour  comes.     And  now  since  this  has  come, 
Most  clearly,  O  my  son,  'tis  meet  for  thee 
To  come  as  helper  to  this  sufferer  here, 

i  The  Selli  are  described  by  Homer  (//.  xvi.  233)  as  hermit-pro- 
phets, dwelling  around  the  Pelasgic  shrine  of  Dodona,  and  inter- 
preting the  oracles  which  came  from  the  sacred  oak. 
So 


THE    MAIDENS   OF  TR AC  II  IS 

And  not  by  lingering  make  my  speech  more  sharp, 
But  yielding,  working  with  me,  finding  thus 
Thy  noblest  law,  thy  father  to  obey. 

Hyllos.  I  dread,  my  father,  bandying  words  with  thee, 
And  will  obey  in  all  thou  thinkest  right. 

Hera.  Give  me  thy  right  hand  then  as  surest  pledge. 

Hyllos.  To  what  end  turnest  thou  an  oath  so  dread  ? 

Hera.  Wilt  thou  not  give  it,  and  obey  my  voice  ? 

Hyllos.  Lo,  then,  I  give  it,  and  will  gainsay  nought. 

Hera.  Swear  by  the  head  of  Zeus  who  gave  me  life. 

Hyllos.  Swear  to  do  what  ?     Shall  that  be  told  me  too  ? 

Hera.  That  thou  wilt  do  the  work  I  set  on  thee. 

Hyllos.  So  swear  I,  calling  Zeus  to  bind  the  oath. 

Hera.  Pray  thou  that  thou  may'st  suffer  if  thou  fail. 

Hyllos.  I  shall  not  suffer,  for  I  '11  act ;  yet  still, 
I  pray  as  thou  dost  bid  me.  llw 

Hera.  Thou  dost  know 

The  topmost  peak  of  CEta,  claimed  by  Zeus  ? 

Hyllos.  Right  well,  for  there  I  oft  have  sacrificed. 

Hera.  There  thou  must  bear  my  body,  thou  thyself, 
With   friends  whom   thou   may'st   wish   for,   and   must 

pluck 

Full  many  a  branch  of  deeply-rooted  oak, 
And  many  a  male  wild  olive,1  and  on  them 
Place  this  my  body,  and  then,  taking  fire 
Of  pine-wood  torch,  must  burn  it.     Let  no  tear 
Of  wailing  enter  in,  but  do  thy  deed, 
If  thou  art  mine,  without  or  tear  or  groan  ; 
Or  else,  though  I  be  in  the  grave,  my  curse 
Shall  rest  upon  thee,  grievous  evermore. 

Hyllos.  What  say'st  thou,  O  my  father  ?  Woe  is  me, 
That  thou  hast  thus  dealt  with  me  ! 

i  Oak,  because  it  was  from  that  tree  at  Dodona  that  the  predic- 
tion of  his  death  had  come  ;  wild  olive,  because  that  was  sacred  to 
Heracles,  as  having  been  brought  by  him  from  the  land  of  the 
Hypeiboreans  (Find.  Ol.  iv.  13). 


THE    MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Hera.  I  have  said 

What  thou  must  do,  or  nevermore  be  called 
My  son,  but  seek  another  father  for  thee. 

Hyllos.  Ah  me  !  once  more.     And  dost  thou  bid  me, 

father, 
To  be  thy  slayer  and  thy  murderer  ? 

Hera.  Not  so  bid  I  ;  but  of  the  ills  I  bear, 
To  be  the  one  great  healer,  strong  to  save. 

H'jllos.  And  how  can  I  work  health  by  burning  thee  ? 

Hera.  If  this  thou  fearest,  do  at  least  the  rest.         [121° 

Hallos.  I  shall  not  grudge  to  bear  thy  body  there. 

Hera.  And  wilt  thou  heap  the  pyre  I  bade  thee  heap  ? 

Hyllos.  All  but  the  touching  it  with  these  my  hands  : 
In  all  things  else  my  labour  shall  not  fail. 

Hera.  That,  then,  shall  be  enough.     But  add  for  me 
One  little  favour  to  these  greater  ones. 

Hyllos.  Though  it  be  very  great,  it  shall  be  done. 

Hera.  Thou  knowest  that  maiden,  child  of  Eurytos  ? 

Hyllos.  Thou  speakest,  so  I  guess,  of  lole  ? 

Hera.  E'en  so.     And  this  I  charge  thee,  O  my  son, 
When  I  am  dead,  if  thou  wilt  reverence  show, 
Be  mindful  of  the  oath  thou  now  hast  sworn, 
And  take  her  as  thy  wife.1     Rebel  thou  not ; 
Nor  let  another  take,  instead  of  thee, 
One  who  has  clung  so  closely  to  my  side  ; 
But  thou  thyself,  my  son,  make  her  thy  wife. 
Obey  me,  for  to  trust  in  greater  things, 
And  then,  in  small,  distrust,  this  cancels  quite 
The  former  boon. 

Hyllos.  \Aside^\  Ah  me  !     To  vent  one's  wrath 
On  one  so  vexed  is  wrong.     Yet  who  can  bear  123° 

To  see  him  in  this  mood  '. 

1  Revolting  as  this  element  in  the  drama  is  to  our  feelings,  the 
thought  which  seems  to  underlie  it  is,  that  the  coming  apotheosis  of 
Heracles  removed  him  from  the  normal  conditions  of  human  life, 
and  cancelled  the  relationship  which,  even  to  the  Greek  mind,  would 
have  made  such  a  union  horrible. 
5* 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

Hera.  Thou  speakest  then 

As  meaning  not  to  do  the  things  I  say. 

Hylios.  Nay,  who  could    choose    a  wife  who  guilty 

stands, 

She,  and  she  only,  of  my  mother's  death, 
And  that  thou,  father,  art  as  now  thou  art  ? 
Who  could  do  this,  unless  the  fiends  had  laid 
The  spell  of  madness  on  him  ?     Better  'twere 
For  me  to  die,  my  father,  than  to  live 
With  worst  foes  dwelling. 

Hera.  This  boy,  it  seems,  denies 

What  I  in  death  have  asked  for.     But  a  curse 
From  God  awaits  thee,  if  thou  disobey. 

Hallos.  Too  soon,  'twould  seem,  thou  'It  shew  how  wild 
thou  art. 

Hera.  Yes  ;    thou   hast  roused  me  when  the  ill  was 
lulled. 

Hyllos.  Woe's  me !    I  stand  as  one  in  much  perplexed. 

Hera.  Yes,  for  thou  dar'st  thy  father  disobey. 

Hyllos.  But  must  I  learn,  my  father,  godless  deeds  ? 

Hera.  No  godless  deed,  if  so  thou  glad  my  heart. 

Hyllos.  And  dost  thou  bid  me  do  it  in  full  earnest  ? 

Hera.  Yea,  even  so  ;  I  call  the  Gods  to  witness. 

Hyllos.  Then  will  I  do,  as  in  the  sight  of  God, 
What  thou  dost  ask,  and  will  refuse  no  more ; 
I  shall  not  shew  as  base,  obeying  thee. 

Hera.  Thou  endest  well  ;  and  add,  my  son,  this  boon, 
And  quickly,  ere  some  fresh  convulsive  throb 
Or  dart  of  pain  comes  on  me,  place  me  there, 
Upon  the  pyre.     Come  quick,  and  lift  me  up. 
This  is  his  rest  who  lies  before  you  here, 
His  last,  last  end. 

Hyllos.  Nay,  nothing  hinders  now 

Our  doing  this,  since  thou,  my  father,  bidd'st, 
And  so  constrainest  us  to  do  thy  will. 

Hera.  Come  then,  ere  once  again 


THE   MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

The  evil  stirs  in  its  might. 
Come,  heart  strong  to  restrain, 
Putting  a  curb  on  thy  lips, 
Wrought  of  the  steel  and  the  stone. 
Cease  from  thy  wailing,  as  one 
About  to  accomplish  a  task 
Unwelcome,  yet  fruitful  in  joy. 
Farewell,  friends,  faithful  and  true, 
*Grant  me  your  pardon  for  this ; 
*But  the  Gods  ...  oh  pardon  them  not, 
*For  the  deeds  that  are  ever  being  done, 
Who,  being  and  bearing  the  name 
Of  Fathers,  look  on  such  wrong. 

Chor.  What  cometh  no  man  may  know, 
What  is  is  piteous  for  us, 
Base  and  shameful  for  Them, 
And  for  him  who  endureth  this  woe, 
Above  all  that  live  hard  to  bear. 

Hallos.  [To  CAorus.]  And  thou,  O  maiden,  within, 
Fail  not  in  aught  that  is  right, 
Seeing  great  and  terrible  deaths, 
Many  and  strange  forms  of  woe, 
And  nothing  which  Zeus  works  not. 


AIAS 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

ATHENA.  MEMET.AOS. 

ODYSSEUS.  AGAMEMNON. 

AIAS.  EURYSAKES,  son  ofAiAS. 

TECMESSA,  wi/e  a/ AIA.S.  Attendant. 

TEUCROS,  half-brother  of  AlAS.  Herald. 

Chorus  of  Sailors  from  Salamis. 

ARGUMENT. — Aias,  the  son  of  Telamon  and  Eribcea, 
•was  mighty  among  the  heroes  whom  Agamemnon  led  against 
Troia,  giant-like  in  stature  and  in  strength ;  and  in  the 
pride  of  his  heart  he  waxed  haughty,  and  scorned  the  help  of 
the  Gods,  and  turned  away  from  Pallas  Athena  when  she 
would  have  protected  him,  and  so  provoked  her  wrath.  Now 
when  Achilles  died,  and  it  was  proclaimed  that  his  armour 
should  be  given  to  the  bravest  and  best  of  all  the  host,  Aias 
claimed  them  as  being  indeed  the  worthiest,  and  as  having 
rescued  the  corpse  of  Achilles  from  shameful  wrong.  But  the 
armour  (so  Athena  willed)  was  given  by  the  chief  of  the 
Hellenes  not  to  him  but  to  Odysseus,  and,  being  very  wroth 
thereat,  he  sought  to  slay  the  Atreid(e  who  had  so  wronged 
him,  and  would  have  so  done,  had  not  Athena  darkened 
his  eyes,  and  turned  him  against  the  flocks  and  herds  of  th« 
host* 

1  The  first  outline  of  the  story  is  found  in  the  Odyssey  (xi.  543), 
whereOdysseusrelateshoweven  in  Hades  the  soul  of  Aias  dwelt 
apart,  and  when  it  recognised  him,  deigned  not  to  answer  him  a 
word,  but  turned  back  haughtily  to  the  darkness. 
55 


AIAS 

SCENE. — Ttnti  of  AIM  «n  the  shore,  near  Ilionj   a  low  underwood  m  tht 
background  j   and  the  tea  teen  in  the  distance 

Athena.  [Speaking  as  from  the  sky,  unseen  by  ODYSSEUS.] 
I  see  thee,  son  of  Lartios,  ever  more 
Seeking  to  seize  some  moment  of  attack 
Against  thy  foes;  and  now,  I  find  thee  here, 
Where  by  the  ships  the  tents  of  Aias  rise, 
(His  ranks  the  last  in  order,)1  hunting  out 
And  measuring  the  steps  but  newly  stamped, 
That  thou  may'st  see  if  he  is  now  within, 
Or  stays  without.     And  thou  art  onward  led, 
As  by  the  scent  of  keen  Laconian  hound;3 
For  there,  within,  the  man  may  now  be  found, 
With  drops  of  sweat  on  head  and  slaughtering  hands ;    ltl 
And  thou  no  longer  needest  so  to  peer 
Within  the  gate  ;  but  tell  me  why  thou  show'st 
Such  zeal,  that  thou  may'st  learn  from  one  who  knows. 

OJys.  O  voice,  of  all  Divine  Ones  dear  to  me, 
Athena's,  clear,  though  Thou  remain  unseen, 
I  hear  thy  speech,  and  catch  it  in  my  soul 
As  though  it  were  some  bronze  Tyrsenian3  trump  ; 

1  The  tents  of  Odysseus  as  described  in  the  Iliad  (xi   8),  were  in 
the  centre  of  the  crescent-shore,  between  Sigeion  and  Rhceteion, 


those  of  Aias  and  Achilles  at  the  two  extremities. 

2  The  dogs  of  Sparta,  and  specially  those  of  Taygetos,  were  pro- 
verbial for  their  speed  and  keenness  of  scent  from  the  days  of 
Pindar  (Fr.  83)  to  those  of  Virgil  (Georg.  iv.  405). 

*  The  Tyrsenians,  or  Tyrrhenians  (identified  here  with  the 
Etrurians),  had  the  repute  of  being  the  first  inventors  of  bronze,  and 
the  tiumpet  so  named  had  a  wide,  bell-shaped  mouth.  Comp. 
<Esch.  Eunun.  567. 

56 


A1AS 

And  now  full  clear  Thou  saw'st  me  wheeling  round 

My  steps  against  a  man  I  count  my  foe, 

Aias,  the  bearer  of  the  mighty  shield.1 

For  he  it  is,  and  no  one  else,  that  I 

Long  while  have  tracked ;  for  he  this  very  nighl 

Hath  wrought  a  work  mysterious,  if  indeed 

'Tis  he  hath  done  it,  for  as  yet  we  know 

Nought  clearly,  but  are  wandering  in  our  search. 

And  I  of  my  free  will  have  yoked  myself 

To  bear  this  toil  ;  for  'twas  but  now  we  found 

Our  captured  flocks  destroyed,  by  man's  hand  slain, 

And  with  them  too  the  guardians  of  the  herd  ; 

And  every  one  imputes  the  deed  to  him  ; 

And  then  a  scout,  who  saw  him  there  alone, 

The  fields  o'erleaping  with  a  blood-stained  sword, 

Told  me,  and  showed  it  all.     And  I  forthwith 

Rush  on  his  track  ;  and  now  in  part  I  guess 

By  signs  and  tokens,  and  in  part  am  struck 

With  sore  amaze,  and  learn  not  where  he  is. 

And  now  Thou  comest  here  most  seasonably, 

For  I,  in  all  things  past  or  yet  to  come, 

Am  guided  by  the  wisdom  of  thine  hand. 

Athena.  I  knew  it,  O  Odysseus,  and  I  came, 
Long  since,  a  ready  helper  in  thy  hunt. 

Odys.  And  I,  dear  Mistress,  do  I  toil  aright  ? 

Athena.  Know  this,  the  deeds  were  done  by  this  man's 
hand. 

Odys.  Towhat  rash  purpose  stretched  he  forth  his  hand? 

Athena.  Vexed  sore  about  the  great  Achilles'  arms,    f40 

Odys.  But  why  this  raid  upon  our  flocks  and  herds  ? 

Athena.  He  thinks  it  is  your  blood  that  stains  his  hand. 

OJys.  What  ?  Was  his  purpose  against  Argives  aimed  ? 

Athena.  And  he  had  done  it,  had  I  failed  to  watch. 

OJys.  Whence  came  this  daring  mood,  this  rashness  wild? 

1  The  epithet  by  which  the  son  of  Telamon  was  distinguished 
from  the  other  Aias,  the  son  of  Oileus. 
$7 


AIAS 

Athena.  'Gainst  you,  by  night,  alone,  with  guile  he 
sallies. 

OJys.  What  r   Did  he  come,  and  reach  his  destined 
spot  ? 

Athena.  Yea,  at  the  gates  of  the  two  chiefs  he  stood. 

OJys.  And  what  restrained  the  hand  that  craved  for 
blood  ?  «° 

Athena.  I  held  him  back  from  that  accursed  joy, 
Casting  strange  glamour  o'er  his  wandering  eyes, 
And  turned  him  on  the  flocks,  and  where  with  them 
The  herds  of  captured  oxen  press  in  crowds, 
Not  yet  divided.     And  on  these  he  falls, 
And  wrought  fell  slaughter  of  the  horned  kine, 
Smiting  all  round  ;  and  now  it  seemed  to  him 
That  he  did  slay  the  Atreidae  with  his  hand, 
Now  this,  now  that,  of  other  generals. 
And  I  still  urged  the  wild  and  moon-struck  man 
With  fresh  access  of  madness,  and  I  cast 
An  evil  net  around  him.     After  this, 
When  he  had  ceased  that  slaughter,  binding  fast 
The  oxen  that  still  lived,  and  all  the  flocks, 
He  leads  them  to  his  dwelling,  counting  them 
No  troop  of  horned  cattle,  but  of  men  ; 
And  now  within  he  flouts  his  prisoners. 
And  I  will  show  thee  this  disease  full  clear, 
That  thou  may'st  see  and  tell  the  Argives  all. 
But  stay  thou  here,  and  fear  not  ;  think  thou  not 
The  man  will  prove  an  evil  chance  to  thee  ; 
For  I  will  turn  his  eyes'  clear  sight  aside, 
And  keep  them  back  from  looking  on  thy  face. 
Ho  there,  [To  AIAS,]  I  bid  thee  come,  who  bindest  now 
The  captive  bands  with  fetters.     Thee  I  call, 
O  Aias  :  forward,  to  thy  dwelling's  front. 

OJys.  What  dost  thou,  O  Athena  ?     Call  him  not 

Atkena.    Wilt  not  be  still,  and   'scape   the  coward's 
shame  ? 


AI  AS 

Odys.  Nay,  by  the  Gods !  but  let  him  stay  within. 
Athena.  What  dost   thou   fear  ?     Was  he   not  strong 

before? 

Odys.  Always  ray  foe,  and  more  so  now  than  ever. 
Athena.   Is  it  not  sweetest  scorn  to  scorn  our  foes  ? 
Odys.  Enough  for  me  that  this  man  stays  within. 
Athena.  Dost  fear  so  much  to  see  a  madman's  face  : 
Odys.  Nay,  were  he  sane,  I  should  not  shun  him  then. 
Athena.  Though  thou  be  near,  he  will  not  see  thee  now 
Odys.  How  so,  if  he  the  same  eyes  has  to  see  ? 
Athena.  Know,  I  will  darken  even  clearest  eyes. 
Odys.  When  a  God  worketh,  all  is  possible. 
Athena.  Hush,  then,  and  stay  where  now  thou  tak'st 

thy  stand. 

Odys.  1  '11  stay  then  ;  yet  I  fain  would  be  away. 
Athena.  [To  AIAS.]  Ho,  there,  O  Aias,  once  again   I 

call. 
Why  honourest  thou  so  little  thine  ally  ?  *° 

Enter  Ait&from  his  tent,  with  a  blood-stained  scourge 
in  his  hand. 

Alas.  Hail,  O  Athena,  hail,  O  child  of  Zeus ! 
Well  art  Thou  come,  and  I  with  golden  spoils 
Will  deck  thy  shrine  for  this  my  glorious  raid. 

Athena.  Thou  speakest  well.    But  tell  me  this,  I  pray, 
Is  thy  sword  red  with  blood  of  Argive  host  ? 

Aias.  Well  may  I  boast,  and  I  deny  it  not. 

Athena.  Did'st  thou  against  the  Atreidae  arm  thy  hand? 

Aias.  Yea.     Nevermore  shall  they  do  Aias  wrong. 

Athena.  The  men  are  dead,  if  I  thy  meaning  catch. 

Aias.  Yea,  dead  ;  now  let  them  carry  off  my  arms.     lo* 

Athena.  So  be  it ;  but  that  son  of  Lartios, 
What  is  his  plight  ?     Has  he  escaped  thy  hand  ? 

Aias.  That  scoundrel  fox  !    Dost  ask  me  where  he  is  ? 

Athena.  E'en  so.     I  mean  Odysseus,  thy  chief  foe. 

Aias.   He,  O  my  Mistress,  sits  a  prisoner  there, 
59 


AIAS 

My  choicest  spoil.     I  seek  not  yet  his  death. 

Athena.  What  wilt  thou  do  first,  what  advantage  gain  ? 

Alas.  First  he,  bound  to  the  pillar  in  the  court.   .  .  . 

Athena.  What  ill  wilt  thou  on  that  poor  wretch  inflict  ? 

Alas.  .  .  .  His   back  all   bleeding  with  the  scourge, 
shall  die.  no 

Athena.  Do  not,  I  pray,  such  outrage  wreak  on  him. 

Alas.  In  other  things,  Athena,  have  thy  way  : 
But  he  this  penalty,  nought  else,  shall  pay. 

Athena.  Since  this  thy  joy  then,  to  it  with  a  will : 
Spare  not  a  jot  of  all  thy  soul  desires. 

Aias.  I  go  to  work.     And  Thou,  I  charge  Thee,  still 
Be  with  me,  helper  true,  as  now  Thou  art. 

\Goes  back  to  his  tent. 

Athena.  Thou  see'st,  Odysseus,  all  the  might  of  Gods, 
How  great  it  is.     Whom  found'st  thou  than  this  man 
With  keener  foresight,  or  with  better  gifts, 
To  do  what  seemed  most  fitting  for  the  time  ? 

Odys.  I  know  of  no  man,  and  I  pity  him, 
So  wretched  now,  although  mine  enemy, 
So  tied  and  harnessed  to  an  evil  fate, 
And  thinking  that  it  touches  me  as  well  ; 
For  this  I  see,  that  we,  all  we  that  live, 
Are  but  vain  phantoms,  shadows  fleeting  fast. 

Athena.  Do  thou,  then,  seeing  this,  refrain  thy  tongue 
From  any  lofty  speech  against  the  Gods, 
Nor  boast  thyself,  though  thou  excel  in  strength 
Or  weight  of  stored-up  wealth.     All  human  things       1JO 
A  day  lays  low,  a  day  lifts  up  again  ; 
But  still  the  Gods  love  those  of  ordered  soul, 
And  hate  the  evil. 

Chor.  I  am  full  glad,  O  son  of  Telamon,1 

1  It  adds  to  the  interest  of  this  and  many  other  passages  of  the 
play  to  remember  how  closely  Salamis  was  identified  by  tiie 
Athenians  with  their  own  history.  One  of  the  Attic  tribes  was 
named  after  Aias.  Solon  of  Peisistratos  was  said  to  have  inserted 
a  verse  in  the  Iliad  (ii.  558),  making  him  an  ally  of  the  Athenians. 
60 


AIAS 

Whose  island  home  is  sea-girt  Salamis, 

When  all  is  well  with  thee ; 
But  when  the  stroke  of  Zeus,  or  evil  speech 
Of  all  the  Danai  comes  on  thee  full  fierce, 

Then  have  I  great  dismay, 
And,  like  a  fluttering  dove,  look  on  in  fear ; 

For  lo  !   this  night  just  o'er, 

Great  clamours  vex  our  souls, 

Sprung  from  the  evil  bruit 
That  thou,  upon  the  plain  where  all  our  steeds 

Leap  wildly  to  and  fro, 

Rushing,  hast  slain  the  Danai's  spoil  of  flocks, 
All  that  was  left  them,  taken  by  the  spear, 

With  sharp  and  glittering  steel. 

Such  whispered  words  of  guile 
Odysseus  into  all  men's  ears  doth  pour, 

And  men  believe  his  speech  ; 
For  now  he  speaks  what  is  too  credible, 
And  he  who  hears  rejoiceth  more  and  more 

[Than  he  who  told  the  tale,] 

Mocking  at  these  thy  woes. 
For  if  one  take  his  aim  at  lofty  souls 

He  scarce  can  miss  his  mark ; 
But  one  who  should  at  me  his  slander  dart, 

Would  fail  to  gain  belief; 
For  envy  ever  dogs  the  great  man's  steps ; 

Yet  men  of  low  estate, 

Apart  from  mightier  ones, 

Are  but  poor  towers  of  strength. 
Still  with  the  great  the  mean  man  prospers  best, 

The  nob'est  families  of  the  Eupatrids  claimed  descent  from  him. 
Before  the  battle  of  Salamis  the  Athenians  invoked  the  help  of  Aias 
and  Telamon,  and,  after  their  victory,  dedicated  their  first-fruits  to 
the  former  (Herod,  viii.  64,  121).  So,  in  this  tragedy,  the  sailors 
of  Aias  are  called  sons  of  Erectheus,  i*. ,  Athenians  (202).  They 
crave  for  a  sight  of  Athens  (i.  221).  Aias  bids  the  Athenians,  as 
well  as  his  own  people,  a  solemn  farewell. 
61 


AIAS 

And  by  the  small  the  great  maintains  his  cause ; 

But  those,  the  fools  and  blind, 

'Tis  vain  to  teach  by  words. 
By  such  as  these  thou  art  beclamourcd  now, 

And  we  can  naught  avail, 
Apart  from  thee,  O  king,  to  ward  the  blow. 
But,  since  they  dread  thine  eye,  like  wild  birds'  flock 
Fluttered  with  fear  at  sight  of  eagle  strong, 
Perchance,  should'st  thou  confront  them  suddenly, 

They,  hushed  and  dumb,  would  crouch. 

STROPHE 

Was  it  that  Artemis,  the  child  of  Zeus,1 
Before  whose  Tauric  altar  bleed  the  bulls, 
(O  rumour  terrible  !   O  source  of  shame  !) 
Had  sped  thee  forth  against  the  people's  herds, 

The  oxen,  shared  of  all  ? 
Was  it  for  victory  that  brought  no  fruit  ? 
Or  was  She  robbed  of  glorious  spoils  of  war? 

Was  it  for  stricken  deer 

She  gained  no  votive  gifts  ? 
Or  Enyalios,*  in  his  coat  of  mail, 

Did  he  find  cause  of  blame, 

As  sharing  war  with  thee, 

And  so  revenged  his  wrong  Jl° 

In  stratagems  of  night  ? 

ANTISTROPHE 
For  never  yet,  O  son  of  Telamon, 

1  In  two  legends  of  the   Homeric  cycle  Artemis  appeared  as 
punishing  scorn  and  slight.     She  sent  the  Calydonian  rxwr  because 
tEneus  had  not  sacrificed  to  her  (//.  ix.  533).    She  demanded  the 
sacrifice  of  Iphigeneia  because  Agamemnon  had  slain  a  consecrated 
stag.      The  name   Tauropola  contained    a    twofold    allusion — to 
Tauris,  as  the  home  of  the  wild,  orgiastic  worship  paid  to  her,  and 
to  the  bulls  (tauroi)  which  were  sacrificed  in  it. 

2  Enyalios,  analogous  in  attributes  to  Ares,  and  often  identified 
with  him,  was  one  of  the  tutelary  deities  of  Salamis,,  and,  at  Athens, 
the  Polemarch  Archon  offered  an  annual    sacrifice  to  him  and 
Artemis. 


AIAS 

Had'st  thou  so  wandered  from  thy  reason's  path, 

Falling  on  flocks  and  herds ; 
By  will  of  Gods,  perchance,  the  evil  comes ; 

But,  Zeus  and  Phoebos,  turn, 
Turn  ye  aside  the  Argives'  tale  of  shame! 
But  if  the  mighty  kings  with  subtle  craft 

Forge  idle  tales  of  thee, 

Or  he  who  draws  his  birth 
From  that  pernicious  stock  of  Sisyphos,1 

Bear  not,  oh,  bear  not,  king, 

That  tale  of  foulest  shame, 

Still  looking  idly  thus 

Upon  thy  sea-washed  tents. 
EPODK 

But  rise  from  this  thy  seat,  where  all  too  long 
*Thou  stay'st,  in  rest  that  brings  the  ills  of  strife, 

Fresh  kindling  Heaven's  fierce  wrath  ; 
And  so  the  haughtiness  of  those  thy  foes 
Speeds  on  unshrinking  as  in  forest  glades 

Where  the  wind  gently  blows, 

While  all,  with  chattering  tongues, 

Speak  words  of  woe  and  shame, 

And  sorrow  dwells  with  me. 

Enter  TECMESSA  from  the  tent. 
Tec.  O  ye  who  comrades  sailed  in  Aias*  ship, 

Sprung  from  the  ancient  race 
Who  claim  the  old  Erectheus  as  their  sire," 
We,  who  afar  from  home 
Watch  over  him,  yon  child  ot  Telamon, 

Have  sorrows  in  good  store  ; 
For  now  the  dread,  the  great,  the  mighty  one, 

1  In  the  post  Homeric  legends  Anticleia,  the  wife  of  Laertes,  or 
Lartios,  had  been  loved  by  Sisyphos,  the  craftiest  of  all  men,  before 
her  marriage,  and  Odysseus  was  his  child  and  not  her  husband's. 

*  "  Who  claim  .  .  .  ."  sc.,  who  are  true  citizens  of  Attica. 


AIAS 

Aias,  with  tempest  wild,  lies  smitten  sore. 
Chor.  What  change  hath  night  then  brought 

*From  fair  «nd  prosperous  state? 
Child  of  Teleutas  old,  of  Phrygia, 

Speak  thou,  and  tell  thy  tale ; 
For  mighty  Aias  loves  and  honours  thee, 

His  captive  and  his  bride  : 
Thou  wilt  not  speak  as  one  that  knoweth  not. 

Tec.  How  shall  I  speak  what  is  unspeakable  ? 
For  thou  wilt  learn  a  sorrow  sharp  as  death  : 

Our  Aias,  noble,  brave, 

His  soul  to  madness  stung, 

Was  brought  to  shame  this  night. 

Such  slaughter  wrought  by  him, 

His  victims  dripping  blood, 

May'st  thou  behold  i'  the  tent. 
Chor.  Ah,  what  the  news  thou  bring'st 

Of  him  the  fiery  one, 
Intolerable,  and  yet  inevitable, 
By  the  great  Danai's  chiefs  spread  far  and  wide, 

Which  rumour  magnifies. 
Ah  me !  the  fate  that  cometh  on  1  fear ; 
Our  chief  will  die  the  gazing-stock  of  all, 

Having,  with  frenzied  hand 

And  dark  and  glittering  sword, 

Slaughtered  the  oxen's  herd 

And  those  that  kept  the  steeds. 
Tec.  Ah  me !     Thence,  thence  he  came, 

Bringing  the  flock  in  chains  ; 
Of  part  upon  the  ground  he  cut  the  throats, 

Part  asunder  he  smote, 

Through  the  chine  cleaving  them  : 

And  taking  two  white-footed  rams, 

From  one  he  cuts  the  head, 

And  tears  out  its  tongue  from  the  roots  ; 

And  one  to  a  column  he  binds, 
64 


AIAS 

And  seizing  a  driver's  rein, 

He  smites  with  shrill  re-echoing,  doubled  thong, 
Venting  vile  words  of  shame, 
Which  God,  not  man,  had  taught. 
Chor.  Now  is  it  time  one  should  hide 
One's  face  in  the  shrouding  veil, 
And  stealthily  creep  out  of  sight, 
Or  sitting  on  swift  rower's  bench, 
Give  way  to  the  sea-crossing  ship  ; 
Such  are  the  threats  the  Atreidae  ply  in  their  wrath, 
And  I  fear,  lest  smitten  with  him, 
Whom  a  terrible  fate  holds  fast, 
I  suffer,  like  him,  stoned  to  death. 
Tec.  'Tis  so  no  more  ;  for  like  the  wild  south-west, 
Without  the  lightning's  flash, 
He  now  is  lulled  to  rest  ; 
And  now,  in  his  right  mind, 
New  form  of  grief  is  his  ; 
For  to  look  out  on  ills  that  are  one's  own, 
In  which  another's  hand  has  had  no  share, 

This  bringeth  sharpest  woe. 
Cbor.  If  he  has  rest  he  sure  will  prosper  well. 
Slight  count  we  make  of  ills  already  gone. 

Tec.  Which  would'st  thou  choose,  if  one  should  give 

thee  choice, 

Or  vexing  friends,  thyself  to  feel  delight, 
Or  sharing  common  griefs  to  mourn  with  them  ? 
Chor.  The  double  evil,  lady,  is  the  worse. 
Tec.  We  then,  though  mad  no  longer,  suffer  more. 
Chor.  How  say'st  thou  this  ?     I  know  not  what  thou 

say'st. 

Tec.  That  man,  when  he  was  in  his  dire  disease, 
Himself  rejoiced  in  all  the  ills  he  did, 
But  vexed  our  souls  that  reason  still  obeyed  ; 
But  now,  when  lulled  and  calmed  from  that  attack, 
He  is  sore  haunted  with  a  troublous  grief, 
ii  65  * 


A1AS 

And  we  with  him  are  suffering  nothing  less. 
Have  we  not  here  a  twofold  ill  for  one  ? 

Chor,  I  own  it  also,  and  I  fear  lest  stroke 
Smite  him  from  God.     How  else,  if  he,  though  cured, 
Is  just  as  far  from  joy  as  when  diseased  ? 

Tec.  So  stands  it,  and  'tis  right  that  thou  should'st 
know. 

Chor.  How  did  the  evil  first  swoop  down  on  him  ? 
Tell  it  to  us  who  grieve  at  thy  mischance. 

Tec.  Thou  shalt  learn  all,  as  one  who  shares  our  woe : 
For  he,  at  dead  of  night,  when  evening's  lamps 
No  longer  burnt,  his  two-edged  sword  in  hand, 
Sought  to  go  out  along  the  lonely  paths; 
And  I  rebuke  him,  saying,  "What  is  this 
Thou  dost,  O  Aias?     Why  unbidden  go 
On  this  thy  emprise,  nor  by  the  heralds  called, 
Nor  hearing  voice  of  trump?     Lo!  all  the  host 
Is  sleeping  sound."     And  he,  with  fewest  words, 
The  well-worn  saw,  made  answer,  "Woman,  know 
That  silence  is  a  woman's  noblest  part." 
And,  hearing  this,  I  ceased.     Then  he  alone 
Rushed  forth,  and  what  passed  there  I  cannot  tell : 
But  then  he  came  within,  and  brought  with  him 
Oxen,  and  shepherd-dogs,  and  fleecy  flocks. 
Some  he  beheaded,  some  he  clove  in  twain, 
Cutting  their  throats,  and  some,  fast  bound  in  chains, 
He  mocked,  as  they  were  men,  upon  the  flocks 
Venting  his  fury ;  and,  at  last,  he  rushed 
Out  through  the  door,  and  with  a  phantom  there 
He  bandied  words,  against  the  Atreidas  some, 
And  some  against  Odysseus,  laughing  much 
That  he  had  paid  them  to  the  full  in  scorn  ; 
And  thence  once  more  within  the  tent  he  leapt, 
And,  long  while  after,  scarce  regains  his  sense. 
And  when  he  saw  the  tent  with  slaughter  filled, 
He  smote  his  head  and  groaned :  and,  falling  down, 
66 


AIAS 

He  sat  among  the  fallen  carcases 

Of"  that  great  slaughter  of  the  flocks  and  herds, 

Tearing  his  hair  by  handfuls  with  his  nails. 

And  for  a  long,  long  time  he  speechless  sat ; 

And  then  with  those  dread  words  he  threatened  me, 

Unless  I  told  him  all  the  woeful  chance, 

And  asked  me  of  the  plight  in  which  he  stood  ; 

And  I,  my  friends,  in  terror  told  him  all, 

All  that  I  knew  of  all  that  he  had  done. 

And  he  forthwith  cried  out  a  bitter  cry, 

Such  as  till  now  I  never  heard  from  him  ; 

For  ever  did  he  hold  such  loud  lament, 

Sure  sign  of  one  with  coward  heart  and  base  ; 

And  holding  back  from  shrill  and  wailing  cries, 

Would  groan  with  deep,  low  muttering,  like  a  bull : 

But  now,  thus  fallen  on  an  evil  chance, 

Tasting  nor  food,  nor  drink,  among  the  herds 

Slain  with  the  sword,  he  sits  in  silent  calm, 

And  looks  like  one  on-  some  dire  mischief  bent. 

[Such  are  the  words  he  utters,  such  his  grief.] 

But  ye,  my  friends,  (for  therefore  came  I  forth,) 

Come  in,  and  give  us  help,  if  help  ye  can. 

For  men  like  him  still  yield  to  words  of  friends. 

Chor.  Dread  things,  Tecmessa,  old  Teleutas'  child, 
Thou  tell'st  us,  that  our  chief  is  mad  with  woe. 

Aias.  \Within  the  tent.~\  Woe,  woe  is  me ! 

Tec.  Yet  more,  'twould  seem ;  or  heard  ye  not  the  cry 
Which  Aias  just  now  uttered  ? 

Aias.  [Within, .]  Woe  is  me  ! 

Chor.  Our  chief,  it  seems,  is  either  frenzied  now, 
Or  grieving  o'er  the  frenzies  of  the  past. 

Mas.  {Within^  My  son,  my  son! 

Tec.  Ah  wretched  me!   he  calls,  Eurysakes, 
For  thee     What  means  he  ?    Where  art  thou  ?    Ah  me  ' 

Aias.  \_Within.~\  I  call  for  Teucros.    Will  he  evermore 
Go  forth  to  spoil  while  I  am  perishing? 
67 


AIAS 

Chor.  He  now  seems  calm  enough.     But  ope  the  door  ; 
Perchance  some  sense  of  shame  may  come  on  him, 
Seeing  even  me. 

Tec.  [Throwing  the  tent  door  open,  and  disclosing  AIAS 
lifting  with  carcases  of  skeep  and  oxen  round 
him.]  Behold  I  open  it, 
And  thou  may'st  see  his  deeds,  and  how  he  fares. 

Aias.  Ah,  sailor  friends !  alone  of  all  my  friends, 
Alone  abiding  in  your  steadfast  law, 
Behold  how  great  a  surge  of  blood-flecked  foam 
Now  whirls  around  me. 

Chor.  [To  TECMESSA.]  Ah  mel     Thou  dost  too  true  a 

witness  bear : 
His  deeds  show  clearly  that  his  sense  is  gone. 

Alas.  O  race,  well  versed  in  all  the  sailor's  art. 
Who  earnest,  plying  still  the  seaman's  oar, 
Thee,  thee  alone  I  see  as  help  in  grief; 

Yet  ....  kill  me,  kill,  I  pray. 
Chor.  Hush!  speak  not  so,  nor,  curing  ill  with  ill, 
Make  sorrow's  weight  yet  greater  than  it  is. 
Alas.  Me,  the  bold,  the  brave-hearted, 

Fearless  in  fight  with  the  foe, 
Thou  see'st  me  show  the  prowess  of  mine  hand 
On  beasts  unformidable. 
Ah !  woe  is  me  for  the  shame, 
The  scorn  that  falls  on  me. 
Tec.  Ah,  my  lord  Aias,  speak  not  thus,  I  pray. 
Alas.  Away  with  thee  !    What  ?   Wilt  thou  not  with- 
draw ?  "° 
Ai!  ai! 

Tec.  Oh  !  by  the  Gods,  give  way,  and  be  advised. 
Alas.  Ah !  woe  is  me,  who  let  the  cursed  ones 
Slip  from  my  hands,  and  falling  on  the  herds 
Of  horned  oxen,  and  those  noble  flocks, 
Shed  their  dark  gore. 

Cbor.  Why  dost  thou  grieve  o'er  what  is  gone  and  past  ? 


AIAS 

These  things  are  so,  and  cannot  be  undone. 

Alas.  O  thou  whose  eye  sees  all  things  evermore, 
Tool  of  all  evil,  child  of  Lartios, 
Of  all  the  host  the  foulest  scoundrel-knave, 
Surely  thou  laughest  much  in  thy  delight. 

Chor.  It  is  through  God  that  man  or  laughs  or  mourns. 
Alas.  Would  I  could  see  him,  smitten  as  I  am. 
Ah  me!  ah  me! 

Ckor.  Speak  nothing  vauntingly. 

Dost  thou  not  see  what  evil  plight  thou'rt  in  ? 
Aias.  O  Zeus !  great  Father  of  my  sires  of  old,1 
Would  that  I  might  destroy 
That  crafty,  scoundrel  foe, 
And  those  two  kings  that  reign  in  partnership, 

And  then  myself  might  die. 

Tec.  When  thou  pray'st  this,  pray  that  I  die  with  thee  : 
What  profits  it  to  live,  when  thou  art  dead  ? 
Aias.   O  dark,  thou  art  my  light, 

O  gloom  to  me  most  clear, 
Take  me,  yea,  take  me  as  your  habitant  : 
Take  me,  for  neither  to  the  race  of  Gods, 
Nor  yet  of  men  enduring  but  a  day 
Can  I,  as  worthy,  look 
For  any  help  in  need, 
But  She,  the  child  of  Zeus, 
Goddess  of  mightiest  power, 
Mocks  at  me  unto  death  ; 
Where  from  her  presence  'scape, 
Where  wandering  shall  I  dwell  ? 
*Ah,  friends  !  if  all  things  fail, 
*For  me,  and  those  most  near, 
And  we  a  dream  pursue, 

Then  should  the  host,  as  spear  by  both  hands  swayed, 
Smite  me  with  one  fell  stroke. 

/Eacos,   the  grandfather   of  Aias,    was  the   son   of  Zeus  and 
69 


AIAS 

Tec,  Ah  !   wretched    me  !   that    one  so   good   should 
speak  4I° 

Such  words,  which  once  he  had  not  dared  to  think  ! 
Aiai,  O  ye  paths  of  the  wave  ! 
O  yc  caves  by  the  sea  ! 
O  thou  glade  by  the  shore  ! 
Long  time,  long  time  my  feet 
On  Troia's  soil  ye  kept  ; 
But  never,  never  more 
Breathing  the  breath  of  life  ; 
Let  the  wise  hear  and  heed. 
O  streams,  Scamandros'  streams 
Hard  by,  to  Argives  kind,  4W 

Never  again  shall  ye  sec 
This  man  who  calls  to  you  now, 

Like  whom  .  .  .  (though  great  the  vaunt, 
Yet  will  I  speak  it  out) 
In  all  the  army  that  from  Hellas  came, 

Troi'a  no  hero  found  : 
Yet  now  I  lie  in  this  dishonoured  plight. 

Chor.  I  know  not  how  to  check  thee  in  thy  speech, 
Nor  yet  permit  it,  whelmed  in  ills  like  these. 

Aias.  Ai !   ai !  who  e'er  had  dreamt  my  name  should 
be  « 

So  clear  a  sign  and  symbol  for  my  woe  ?J 
For  now  'tis  mine  to  groan  this  "  Ai,  ai  "  forth, 
Twice,  yea,  and  thrice,  such  ills  have  come  on  me, 
Whose  father,  head  of  all  the  conquering  host, 
Brought  the  chief  trophies  from  fair  Ida's  shore, 
And  home  returned,  with  highest  glory  crowned  ; 
And  I,  his  son,  to  that  same  Troi'a  come 
With  no  less  power,  nor  working  with  my  hands 

1  The  irony  with  which  Aias  thus  finds  an  omen  in  his  own  name 
becomes  all  the  more  bitter  when  we  remember  that,  in  the  popular 
tradition,  it  was  derived  from  aietos,  the  kingly  eagle,  which  had 
appeared  to  Heracles,  as  an  omen  that  Zeus  had  granted  his  prayer 
for  Telamon,  and  after  which,  therefore,  Telamon's  son  was  named. 
79 


AIAS 

Less  mighty  deeds,  am  left  to  perish  here, 
Dishonoured  by  the  Argives  :  yet  I  think 
I  know  thus  much,  that  had  Achilles  lived 
To  give  his  arms  as  prize  of  valiant  deeds, 
No  one  would  then  have  seized  them  in  my 
But  now  the  Atreidae  got  them  for  a  man 
Crafty  in  soul,  and  this  my  strength  despised  ; 
And  were  it  not  my  eyes  and  mind  had  rushed 
Wildly  away  from  will,  they  had  not  lived 
To  give  their  votes  against  another  man. 
But  now  the  virgin  child  of  Zeus,  with  eyes 
Of  fearful  brightness,  when  I  stretched  my  hands 
Against  them,  sent  a  frenzied  madness  on  me, 
So  that  I  stained  my  hands  with  these  poor  beasts  ; 
And  they,  escaped  in  safety,  mock  at  me  : 
Not  with  my  will  was  this,  but  if  a  God 
Should  smite,  the  worse  may  'scape  the  better  man. 
And  now  what  course  is  right  for  me,  to  whom 
The  Gods  are  clearly  foes,  and  all  the  host 
Of  Hellas  hates  me,  and  these  outspread  plains 
And  Troi'a  are  mine  enemies  ?     Shall  I, 
Quitting  my  seat  and  sea-side  anchorage, 
Leave  the  Atreidae  by  themselves  alone, 
And  cross  the  .^Egsean  waters  to  my  home  ? 
But  then,  how  shall  I  look  him  in  the  face, 
My  father  Telamon  ?     How  will  he  bear 
To  see  me  stript,  without  my  valour's  prize, 
When  he  himself  won  glory's  noblest  crown  f 
That  shame  is  past  all  bearing.     Shall  I  go 
Against  the  Tro'ians'  fort,  and  fighting  there, 
Alone  with  them  alone,  do  some  brave  deed, 
And  then  at  last  gain  death  ?     But  thus  should  I 
Gladden  my  foes,  the  Atreidae.     Nay,  not  so  : 
I  must  seek  out  some  perilous  emprise, 
To  show  my  father  that  I  sprang  from  him, 
In  nature  not  faint-hearted.     It  is  shame 
71 


AIAS 

For  any  man  to  wish  for  length  of  life, 
Who,  wrapt  in  troubles,  knows  no  change  for  good. 
For  what  delight  brings  day  still  following  day, 
Or  bringing  on,  or  putting  off  our  death  ? 
I  would  not  rate  that  man  as  worth  regard 
Whose  fervour  glows  on  vain  and  empty  hopes  : 
But  either  noble  life  or  noble  death 
Becomes  the  gently  born.     My  say  is  said. 

Cbor.  And  none  will  say,  O  Aias,  that  thou  speak'st 
As  one  who  talks  by  rote,  but  from  thine  heart  : 
Yet  cease,  we  pray  thee  ;  leave  such  thoughts  as  these, 
And  let  thy  friends  control  thy  soul's  resolve. 

Tec.  My  master  Aias,  greater  ill  is  none 
To  mortals  given  than  lot  of  servitude  ; 
And  I  was  sprung  from  free-born  father,  strong, 
If  any  was  in  Phrygia,  in  his  wealth  : 
And  now  I  am  a  slave,  for  so  it  pleased 
The  Gods  and  thy  right  hand  ;  and  therefore,  since    4M 
I  share  thy  bed,  I  care  for  thee  and  thine. 
And  now  I  pray,  by  Zeus  who  guards  our  hearth, 
And  by  the  couch  where  thou  hast  slept  with  me, 
Deem  it  not  right,  in  bondage  leaving  me, 
That  I  should  hear  hard  words  from  those  thy  foes  ; 
For  should'st  thou  die,  and  dying  leave  me  lone, 
Be  sure  that  I  upon  that  self-same  day, 
Dragged  by  the  Argives  with  a  harsh  constraint, 
With  this  thy  son  must  eat  a  bond-slave's  bread  ; 
And  some  one  of  my  masters  bitter  words 
Will  speak  with  scorn, — "  Behold  the  concubine 
Of  Aias  who  excelled  the  host  in  might  ! 
VVhat  bondage  now  she  bears,  in  place  of  lot 
That  all  did  envy  !  "     This  will  some  one  say, 
And  Fate  pursue  me,  while  for  thee  and  thine 
Are  basest  words  like  these.     For  very  shame 
Leave  not  thy  father  in  his  sad  old  age  ; 
For  shame  leave  not  thy  mother,  feeble  grown 


AIAS 

With  many  years,  who  ofttimes  prays  the  Gods 

That  thou  may'st  live  and  to  thy  home  return  : 

Pity,  O  king,  thy  boy,  and  think  if  he,  61n 

Deprived  of  childhood's  nurture,  live  bereaved, 

Beneath  unfriendly  guardians,  what  sore  grief 

Thou,  in  thy  death,  dost  give  to  him  and  me  ; 

For  I  have  nothing  now  on  earth  save  thee 

To  which  to  look  ;  for  thou  hast  swept  away 

My  country  with  thy  spear,  and  other  fate 

Has  taken  both  my  mother  and  my  sire 

To  dwell,  as  dead,  in  Hades.     What  to  me 

Were  country  in  thy  stead,  or  what  were  wealth  f 

For  I  in  thee  find  all  deliverance. 

Yea,  think  of  me  too.     Still  the  good  man  feels,          62° 

Or  ought  to  feel,  the  memory  of  delight  ; 

For  gracious  favours  still  do  favour  win  ; 

But  if  a  man  forget  the  good  received, 

His  soul  no  more  wears  stamp  of  gentle  birth. 

Chor.  I  would,  O  Aias,  thou  could'st  pity  feel, 
As  I  do.     Then  would'st  thou  approve  her  words. 

Aias.  Great  praise  shalt  she  have  from  me,  if  she  dare 
Fully  to  do  the  task  appointed  her. 

Tec.  Lo  !  Aias  dear,  I  will  obey  in  all. 

Aias.   Bring   then   thy  child    to   me   that   I  may  see 
him.  •*> 

Tec.  In  very  fear  but  now  I  sent  him  forth. 

Aias.  In  these  late  troubles  ?     Or  what  meanest  thou  ? 

Tec,  Lest  he,  poor  child,  should  meet  with  thee  and 
die. 

Aias.  That  would  have  been  fit  pastime  for  my  Fate. 

Tec.  But  I  took  care  against  that  fate  to  guard. 

Aias.  I  praise  thy  deed,    and  prudence    which  thou 
showed'st. 

Tec.  What  service  then  could  I  next  render  thee  ? 

Aias.  Give  me  to  speak  with  him,  and  look  on  him. 

Tec.  He  is  hard  by,  in  our  attendants'  care. 
73 


ATAS 

Aias.  Why  this  delay  ?  Why  comes  he  not  at  once  ?  64° 
Tec.  Ho,  boy  !     Thy  father  calls.    Come  hither,  thou, 
Who  chancest  now  to  guide  him  with  thy  hands. 

Aias.  Speak'st  thou  to  one  who  comes,  or  fails  to  hear  ? 
Tec.  Behold,  this  servant  brings  him  in  to  thee. 

Enter  Attendant,  bringing  EURYSAK.ES. 

Aias.  Lift  him,  then,  lift  him  here.   He  will  not  shrink, 
Beholding  all  this  slaughter  newly  wrought, 
If  he  be  rightly  named  his  father's  son  : 
But  we  to  these  his  father's  savage  ways 
Must  break  him  in,  and  make  him  like  in  soul. 
O  boy,  may'st  thou  be  happier  than  thy  sire, 
In  all  things  else  be  like  him.     And  not  bad 
Would'st  thou  be  then.     And  yet  thy  lot  e'en  now 
Doth  move  my  envy,  that  thou  feelest  nought 
Of  all  these  evils.     Sweetest  life  is  found 
In  those  unconscious  years  ere  yet  thou  know 
Or  joy  or  sorrow.     When  thou  com'st  to  this, 
Then  thou  must  show  thy  breeding  to  thy  foes, 
What  son  of  what  a  father  :  but  till  then, 
In  gentle  breezes  grow,  and  rear  thy  life 
A  joy  to  this  thy  mother.     And  I  know 
That  none  of  all  the  Achaean  host  will  dare 
Insult  thee  with  foul  scorn,  though  I  be  gone  ; 
Such  a  stout  guardian  will  I  leave  for  thee 
In  Teucros,  still  unsparing  for  thy  need, 
Though  now  far  off  he  hunts  our  enemies. 
And  ye,  who  bear  the  shield,  my  sailor  band, 
On  you  in  common  this  request  I  lay  ; 
Give  him  this  message  from  me,  home  to  ta*.« 
This  boy,  and  show  him  there  to  Telamon, 
And  to  my  mother,  Eribcea  named, 
That  he  may  feed  their  age  for  evermore,  "* 

[Till  they  too  enter  the  abode  of  Death  ;] 
And  these  my  arms  no  umpires — no,  nor  yet 
74 


AIAS 

That  plague  of  mine — shall  to  Achaeans  give  ; 

But  thou,  my  son,  Eurysakes,  be  true 

To  that  thy  name,  and  holding  by  the  belt 

Well  wrought,  bear  thou  the  sevenfold  shield  unhurt  ; 

But  all  my  other  arms  with  me  shall  lie 

Entombed.     And  now,  take  thou  this  boy  indoors 

And  close  the  tent,  and  shed  no  wailing  tears 

Here  in  the  front.     A  woman  still  must  weep. 

Close  up  the  opening  quickly  :  skilful  leech 

Mutters  no  spell  o'er  sore  that  needs  the  knife. 

Chor.  I  tremble  as  I  hear  thy  eagerness  ; 
For  I  like  not  this  sharp,  keen-whetted  speech. 

Tec.  Ah  !  Aias,  lord,  what  deed  dost  thou  intend  ? 

Aiai.  Ask  not ;  inquire  not.     Self-command  is  good. 

Tec.  Ah  !   my  heart  fails  me.     Now,  by  this  thy  son, 
And  all  the  Gods,  I  pray  thee,  leave  us  not. 

Aias.  Thou  vexest  me  too  much.     What  ?     Know'st 

thou  not 

That  I  no  more  am  debtor  to  the  Gods 
That  I  should  do  them  service  ? 

Tec.  Hush  !  oh,  hush  ! 

Aias.  Speak  thou  to  those  that  hear  thee. 

Tec.  Wilt  not  thou 

Be  soothed,  and  hearken  ? 

Aias.  Thou  dost  speak  too  much. 

Tec.  Yea,  for  I  fear,  O  prince. 

Aias.  Quick  !  lead  her  in. 

[Sailors  take  TECMESSA,  EURYSAKES,  and  tke 
Attendant  to  the  women's  tent. 

Tec.  [From  the  tent.']  Oh,  by  the  Gods,  relent  thou. 

Aias.  Thou  dost  seem 

A  foolish  thing  to  purpose,  if  thou  think'st 
At  such  a  time  as  this  to  school  my  mood. 

[Exit,  into  bis  tent. 
STROPHE  I 

Chor.  O  glorious  Salamis ! 
75 


AIAS 

Thou  dwellest,  blest  within  thy  sea-girt  shores, 

Admired  of  all  men  still  ; 
While  I,  poor  fool,  long  since  abiding  here  " 

*In  Ida's  grassy  mead, 

*Winter  and  summer  too, 

*Dwell,  worn  with  woe,  through  months  innumerable, 
Still  brooding  o'er  the  fear  of  evil  things. 

That  I  ere  long  shall  pass 
To  shades  of  Hades  terrible  and  dread. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

And  now  our  Aias  comes, 
Fresh  troubler,  hard  to  heal,  (ah  me  !  ah  me  !)  " 

And  dwells  with  madness  sore, 
Which  God  inflicts  ;  him  thou  of  old  did'st  send 

Mighty  in  battle  fierce  j 

But  now  in  lonely  woe 

Wandering,  great  sorrow  he  to  friends  is  found, 
And  the  high  deeds  of  worthiest  praise  of  old, 

Loveless  to  loveless  souls, 
Are  with  the  Atreidae  fallen,  fallen  low.  M 

STROPHE  II 
And,  lo  !  his  mother,  worn  with  length  of  days, 

And  white  with  hoary  age, 
When  she  shall  hear  his  frenzied  soul's  disease, 

With  wailing,  wailing  loud, 
Will  she,  ill-starred  one,  cry,  nor  pour  the  strain 

Of  nightingale's  sad  song, 
But  shriller  notes  will  utter  in  lament, 

And  on  her  breast  will  fall 

The  smiting  of  her  hands, 
And  fearful  tearing  of  her  hoary  hair. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

For  better  would  he  fare  in  Hades  dread, 
Who  liveth  sick  in  soul, 
76 


AIAS 

Who,  springing  from  the  noblest  hero-stock 

Of  all  the  Achaeans  strong, 
Abides  no  longer  in  his  native  mood, 

But  wanders  far  astray. 

0  wretched  father,  what  a  weight  of  woe, 

Thy  son's,  hast  thou  to  learn, 
Which  none  else  yet  has  borne, 
Of  all  the  high  Zeus-sprung  /Eac'idae. 

Enter  AIAS  from  his  tent,  with  his  sword. 

Atas.  Time  in  its  long,  long  course  immeasurable, 
Both  brings  to  light  all  hidden  things,  and  hides 
What  once  was  seen  ;  and  nothing  is  there  strange 
We  may  not  look  for  :  even  dreadest  oaths 
And  firm  resolves  must  yield  themselves  to  him. 
So  I,  who  for  a  while  was  stern  and  hard, 
Like  steel,  oil-dipped,  am  womanised  in  tone, 
Moved  by  my  wife's  fond  prayers,  whom  I  am  loth 
To  leave  a  widow  with  her  orphaned  child 
Among  my  foes.     But  now  I  go  to  bathe 
Where  the  fair  meadows  slope  along  the  shore, 
That  having  washed  away  my  stains  of  guilt, 

1  may  avert  the  Goddess's  dire  wrath ; 
And,  going  where  I  find  a  spot  untracked 
By  human  foot,  may  bury  this  my  sword, 
Weapon  most  hateful,  digging  up  the  earth 
Where  none  may  see  it ;  but  let  Hades  dark 

And  Night  watch  o'er  it.     For  from  that  same  hour 
When  I  received  it  at  great  Hector's  hands, 
A  gift  most  deadly,  never  kindly  word 
Had  I  from  any  Argive  ;  and  most  true 
Is  found  the  proverb  that  one  hears  men  say — 
"  A  foe's  gifts  are  as  no  gifts,  profitless." 
So  for  the  future  we  shall  know  to  yield 
Our  will  to  God's,  shall  learn  to  reverence 
The  Atreidae  even.     They  our  rulers  are, 
77 


AIAS 

And  we  must  yield.     Why  not  ?     The  strongest  things 

That  fright  the  soul  still  yield  to  sovereignty. 

Winters  with  all  their  snow-drifts  still  withdraw          *ro 

For  summer  with  its  fruits  ;  and  night's  dark  orb 

Moves  on  that  day  may  kindle  up  its  fires, 

Day  with  its  chariot  drawn  by  whitest  steeds  ; 

And  blast  of  dreadest  winds  will  lull  to  rest 

The  groaning  ocean  ;  and  all-conquering  sleep 

Now  binds,  now  frees,  and  does  not  hold  for  aye 

Whom  once  it  seized.     And  shall  not  we  too  learn 

Our  lesson  of  true  wisdom  ?     I,  indeed, 

Have  learnt  but  now  that  we  should  hate  a  foe 

Only  so  far  as  one  that  yet  may  love,  "° 

And  to  a  friend  just  so  much  help  I'll  give 

As  unto  one  that  will  not  always  stay; 

For  with  most  men  is  friendship's  haven  found 

Most  treacherous  refuge.     But  in  this  our  need 

All  shall  be  well,  and  thou,  O  woman,  go 

Within,  and  pray  the  Gods  to  grant  in  full 

What  my  heart  craves  for.     And  do  ye,  my  friends, 

Pay  her  the  self-same  honour  as  to  me, 

And  charge  ye  Teucros,  should  he  come,  to  care 

For  me,  and  show  a  kindly  heart  to  you. 

For  now  I  go  the  journey  I  must  take  ; 

And  ye,  do  what  I  bid  you,  and  perchance 

Ye  soon  may  hear  of  me,  though  now  my  fate 

Is  evil,  as  delivered  from  all  ill.  [Exit. 

STROPHE 
Chor.  I  thrill  with  eager  desire,  I  leap  for  gladness  of 

heart, 
lo,  lo,  O  Pan  !  * 

1  The  hymn  of  the  Chorus  is  addressed,  first,  to  Pan  as  the  God 
of  impetuous,  exulting  joy,  and,  afterwards,  to  Apollo  as  the  giver 
of  a  calmer  and  more  spiritual  gladness.  Another  reason  for  their 
choice  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  island  Psyttaleia,  between 
Salamis  and  the  mainland,  was  sirred  to  him.  Thence,  in  legends 
7* 


MAS 

O  Pan  !   O  Pan  !    O  Pan  ! 
Pan  that  walketh  the  waves, 
Come  from  the  snow-beaten  heights 
From  Kyllene's  mountainous  ridge. 
Come,  O  my  king,  that  leadest  the  dance  of  the  Gods, 
That  thou  with  me  may'st  thread 
The  dance  of  windings  wild, 
Nysian,  or  Knossian  named  ; ' 
For  now  I  needs  must  dance  for  very  joy. 
And  King  Apollo,  o'er  Icarian  waves, 
Coming,  the  Delian  God, 
In  presence  manifest, 
May  He  be  with  me  gracious  evermore. 

ANTISTROPHE 
And  Ares,  too,  hath  loosed  the  dark  calamitous  spell 

From  off  these  eyes  of  ours  : 
lo,  and  lo  still, 

Once  more,  and  yet  once  more. 

And  now,  O  Zeus,  again 

A  day  clear,  cloudless,  fair, 
May  dawn  upon  our  ships  o'er  waves  swift-speeding;   71° 

For  Aias  rests  from  grief, 

And  now  with  awe  profound, 

Duly  worships  the  Gods 

With  meetest  sacrifice. 

Time,  with  great  changes,  bringeth  all  things  low, 
And  never  shall  the  word  "  impossible  " 

Pass  from  my  lips,  since  now 

Aias  from  wrath  hath  turned, 
And  the  hot  mood  that  "gainst  the  Atreidze  raged. 

which  were  fresh  in  men's  memories  when  Sophocles  wrote,  he  had 
come  forth  to  help  the  Athenians  at  Marathon  and  Salamis. 
Kyllene,  in  Arcadia,  was  the  special  home  of  Pan-worship. 

1  Nysian,  like  the  dances  of  the  Tliiasos  at  Nysa,  the  birthplace 
of  Dionysos  ;  Knossian,  like  those  at  Knossos  in  Crete,  in  honour 
of  the  bride  of  Dionysos,  Ariadne. 
79 


AIAS 


Enter  Messenger. 


Mess.  I  wish,  my  friends,  to  tell  my  good  news  first  : 
Teucros  is  come  but  now  from  Mysian  crags, 
And  coming  where  the  generals  all  were  met, 
From  all  the  Argive  host  foul  speech  he  hears ; 
For  hearing  of  his  coming  from  afar, 
Gathering  around  him  at  his  head  they  hurled 
Their  words  of  scorn,  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
Calling  him  brother  of  the  madman,  kin 
Of  him  who  laid  his  plans  against  the  host, 
And  threatening  that  he  should  not  save  himself 
From  falling,  bruised  and  mangled,  stoned  to  death.     "° 
So  far  they  went  that  even  swords  were  drawn 
Forth  from  their  scabbards,  and  were  crossed  in  fight  ; 
And  when  the  strife  had  reached  its  furthest  bounds, 
It  ceased  with  calmer  speech  of  aged  men. 
But  where  is  Aias  that  he  too  may  hear  ? 
'Tis  right  to  tell  our  masters  all  the  truth. 

Ckor.  He  is  not  there  within,  but  now  is  gone, 
Changed  counsels  forming  for  his  changing  mood. 

Mess.  Ah  me  !     Or  he  who  sent  me  on  my  way, 
Sent  me  too  late,  or  I  too  late  have  come. 

Cbor.  What  then  is  lacking  in  thy  business  here  ?    ~ 

Mess.  Teucros  forbade  our  chief  to  pass  outside 
His  tent,  till  he  himself  were  present  here. 

Cbor.  But  he  is  gone,  to  best  of  tempers  turned, 
That  he  may  'scape  the  anger  of  the  Gods. 

Mess.  These  words  of  thine  are  full  of  foolishness, 
If  Calchas  be  a  prophet  wise  and  true. 

Chor.  What  mean'st  thou  ?    What  know'st  thou  of  all 
these  things  ? 

Mess.  Thus  much  I  know,  and  chanced,  being  there, 

to  hear ; 

For  from  the  council  where  the  rulers  sat, 
Calchas  alone,  withdrawing  from  the  Atreidie, 
8c 


AIAS 

His  right  hand  placing  with  all  kindliness 
In  Teucros'  hand,  urged  him  by  every  art, 
For  this  one  day,  this  very  day,  to  keep 
Our  Aias  in  his  tent,  nor  let  him  go, 
If  he  desired  to  see  him  yet  alive  ; 
For  that  on  this  day  only,  so  he  spake, 
Athena's  wrath  would  vex  him.      For  the  seer 
Said  that  the  over-proud  and  foolish  ones 
Fall  into  sore  misfortunes  from  the  Gods, 
When  one,  who  draws  his  life  from  human  birth, 
Then  thinks  and  feels  as  he  were  more  than  man. 
And  he,  when  starting  hither  from  his  home, 
Showed  himself  foolish  son  of  prudent  sire; 
For  thus  he  bade  him  :  "  With  thy  spear,  my  son, 
Strive  thou  to  win,  but  win  with  help  of  God  ! " 
And  he  replied,  in  foolish,  vaunting  speech, 
"My  father,  with  God's  help,  a  man  of  nought 
Might  victory  win  ;  but  I,  I  trust,  shall  grasp 
Without  their  aid  that  glory  for  myself." 
Such  boast  he  uttered  ;  and  a  second  time, 
When  great  Athena  urged  him  to  the  fight, 
And  bade  him  turn  his  hand  against  his  foes, 
He  answered  her  with  words  one  fears  to  speak : 
"  O  queen,  stand  thou  the  other  Argives  near ; 
The  tide  of  battle  will  not  sweep  us  down." 
With  words  like  these,  not  thinking  as  a  man 
Should  think,  he  roused  the  Goddess  to  fierce  wrath 
But  if  he  lives  this  day,  with  help  of  God, 
We  might  be  his  deliverers.     Thus  the  seer 
Spake,  and  then  Teucros  gives  me  this  command 
For  thee  to  keep.     But  if  we  miss  our  mark, 
Our  lord  is  lose,  or  Calchas  is  not  wise. 

Chor.  Ah,  poor  Tecmessa  !  child  of  misery, 
Come   thou,   and   hear  what  words  are   these  he 

peaks  ; 
The  knife  has  touched  the  quick,  and  joy  is  gone. 


AIAS 

Enter  TECMESSA^OT  the  tent,  with  EURYSAKES. 

Tec.  Why  rouse  ye  me,  so  lately  freed  from  woe, 
Woe  very  grievous,  once  again  to  grieve  ? 

Chor.  Hear    thou   this    man,   who   now   has    tidings 

brought 
About  our  Aias,  which  I  grieve  to  hear.  ™ 

Tec.  Ah  me  !  O  man,  what  say'st  thou  ?    Are  we  lost  ? 

Mess.  Of  thy  estate  I  know  not,  but  for  him 
I  have  small  hope,  if  he  is  not  within. 

Tec.  Within  he  is  not  ;  so  thy  words  bring  woe. 

Mess.  Teucros  doth  bid  thee  keep  thy  husband  safe 
Within  his  tent,  nor  let  him  forth  alone. 

Tec.  And  where  is  Teucros  ?     Why  does  he  say  thi»  * 

Mess.  He  has  but  just  now  come,  and  says  he  fears 
Lest  this  departure  bring  to  Aias  death. 

Tec.  Woe,  woe  is  me  !    From  whom  did  he  learn  this  ? 

Mess.  From  Thestor's  son,  the  seer,  who  says  this  day, 
This  very  day,  brings  life  or  death  to  him. 

Tec.  Ah,  friends,  come  help  me  in  my  low  estate, 
And  hasten,  some,  to  bring  me  Teucros  here  ; 
Some  seek  the  western  bays,  and  some  the  east  ; 
Go  ye,  and  search  the  wanderings  of  my  lord, 
So  fraught  with  evil.     Well  I  see  it  now, 
My  husband  tricked  me,  and  has  cast  me  out 
From  all  his  old  affection.     Ah,  my  son  ! 
What  shall  we  do  ?     We  must  not  linger  here, 
But  I  will  onward  with  all  strength  I  have.  '" 

On,  hasten  we  ;  no  time  for  loitering  this, 
[Wishing  to  save  a  man  so  bent  on  death.] 

Chor.  Full  ready  I,  and  not  in  words  alone  : 
Swift  action  and  swift  feet  shall  go  with  them. 

[Exeunt  TECMESSA,  Messenger,  and  Chorus 

AIAS  is  seen  in  the  distance  by  the  sea-shore,  fixing  hit 
sword  in  the  ground. 

Aitu.  The  slayer  stands  where  sharpest  it  will  pierce, — - 
82 


AIAS 

If  one  had  time  to  think  of  that, — the  gift 
Of  Hector,  whom  of  all  men  most  I  loathed, 
And  found  most  hostile.     And  in  Troi'a's  soil, 
Soil  of  our  foes,  it  stands  with  sharpened  edge, 
Fresh  whetted  with  the  stone  that  wears  the  steel  ; 
And  I  have  fixed  it  carefully  and  well 
Where  most  it  favours  speedy  death  for  him 
Who  standeth  here.     So  far,  so  good  :  and  first, 

0  Zeus,  (for  this  is  right,)  be  kind  to  me. 

1  ask  but  this,  (no  mighty  boon,  I  trow,) 
Send  some  one  as  a  messenger  to  bear 
The  evil  news  to  Teucros,  that  he  first 

May  lift  my  corpse,  by  this  sharp  sword  transfixed, 
And  that  I  may  not,  seen  by  any  foe, 
Before  he  see  me,  be  to  dogs  and  birds 
Foully  cast  forth,  their  quarry  and  their  spoil ; 
So  much,  O  Zeus,  I  ask  Thee  ;  and  I  call 
With  Thee,  great  Hermes,  guide  of  all  the  dead, 
And  dweller  in  the  dark,  to  close  mine  eyes 
Kindly,  with  one  swift,  unconvulsive  spring 
Piercing  my  heart  with  this  same  sword  of  mine ; 
And  those,  the  Ever-virgin  Ones,  I  call, 
Erinnyes  dread  that  see  all  human  deeds, 
Swift-footed,  that  they  mark  how  I  am  slain 
By  yon  Atreidae  ;  may  they  seize  on  them, 
Doers  of  evil,  with  all  evil  plagues 
And  uttermost  destruction,  as  they  now 
See  me  destroyed  [with  suicidal  hand, 
So  let  them  fall  by  dearest  kindred  slain.] 
Come  swift  Erinnyes,  vengeful,  glut  yourselves 
(Yea,  spare  them  not,)  upon  the  host  they  rule. 
Thou  Sun,  whose  chariot  in  the  heaven's  high  path 
Rides  on  in  glory,  when  Thou  see'st  the  land 
Owned  by  my  fathers,  draw  thy  golden  reins, 
And  tell  all  these  my  sorrows,  and  my  doom, 
To  mine  old  father,  and  my  mother  lorn  ; 


AIAS 

Ah  !  when  she  hears,  poor  wretch,  the  evil  newi         ** 
Through  all  the  city,  great  and  bitter  cries 
Will  issue  from  her  lips.     But  not  for  me 
Is  time  for  vain  lament.     The  work  must  now 
Begin  more  swiftly.     Come,  and  look  on  me, 

0  Death,  O  Death  ! — and  yet  in  yonder  world 

1  shall  dwell  with  thee,  speak  enough  with  thee  ; 
And  Thee  I  call,  thou  light  of  golden  day, 
Thou  Sun,  who  drivest  on  thy  glorious  car, 
Thee,  for  this  last  time,  never  more  again. 

O  Light,  O  sacred  land  that  was  my  home ; 
O  Salamis,  where  stands  my  father's  hearth, 
Thou  glorious  Athens,  with  thy  kindred  race  ; 
Ye  streams  and  rivers  here,  and  Troi'a's  plains, 
To  you  that  fed  my  life  I  bid  farewell  ; 
This  last,  last  word  does  Aias  speak  to  you  ; 
All  else  I  speak  in  Hades  to  the  dead. 

[Falls  on  his  sword,  and  din. 

Enter  Chorus,  in  two  companies,  searching  for  AIAS. 
Semi-Cbor.  A.  Toil  upon  toil  brings  toil ; 
Whither,  ah,  whither, 
Whither  have  I  not  gone  ? 
And  no  place  knoweth  to  help. 
Lo  !  lo !  again  I  hear  a  sound  of  fall. 

Semi-Chor.  B.  'Tis  but  our  mates,  the  sailors  of  our 

ship. 

Semi-Chor.  A.  What  say  ye  then  ? 
Semi-Chor.  B.  The  whole  flank  has  been  tracked 
West  of  the  ships. 

Semi-Chor.  A.  And  is  there  aught  discerned  ? 
Semi-Chor.  B.  Labour  enough,  but  nothing  more  to  see. 
Semi-Chor.  A.  And  yet  upon  the  eastern  region's  path 
Our  chief  is  clearly  nowhere  to  be  found. 
Chor.  Who,  then,  will  tell  me,  who 
Of  fishers  loving  toil, 

84 


AIAS 

Plying  his  sleepless  task, 

Or  who  of  Nymphs  divine.. 

That  haunt  Olympos'  height, 

Of  which  of  all  the  streams 

Where  Bosporos  flows  fast, 
Will  tell  if  they  have  seen  him  anywhere, 

Wandering,  the  vexed  in  soul  ? 

Hard  destiny  is  mine, 

Long  tried  with  weary,  toilsome  wanderings, 
That  still  I  fail  to  reach  with  prosperous  course, 

Nor  see  where  now  he  stays,  *° 

The  man  o'erwrought  with  ill. 

Enter  TECMESSA  ;  as  she  advances,  ike  stumbles  on  the  body. 

Tec,  Woe,  woe  is  me  ! 

Chor.  What  cry  hard  by  is  that  from  out  the  glade  ? 
Tec.  Oh,  miserable  me  ! 

Chor.  I  see  that  captive  bride,  the  spoil  of  war, 
Tecmessa,  crushed  with  this  o'erwhelming  grief. 
Tec.  I  die,  I  perish  ;  all  is  lost,  my  friends. 
Chor.  What,  then,  has  happened  ? 
Tec.  Aias  lieth  here 

Just  slain,  his  sword  within  his  body  buried. 
Chor.  Woe,  woe  for  my  voyage  home  ! 

Woe,  woe  is  me,  thou  hast  slain, 

O  king,  thy  shipmate  true  ; 
Ah  me,  grievous  my  lot  ! 

Grievous,  O  woman,  thy  woe  ! 

Tec.  Well  may  one  groan  and  wail  to  find  him  thus. 
Chor.  But  by  whose  hands  did  that  ill-starred  one  die  ? 
Tec.  He,  by  his  own  hand,  it  is  plain  ;  for  here 
This  sword,  firm  fixed,  on  which  he  fell,  gives  proof. 
Chor.  Woe,  woe  is  me  for  my  grief ! 

Alone  thou  wast  bleeding  to  death, 

1  The  Mysian  Olympos  which  the  Greek  dramatists  identified 
with  Ida. 

85 


AIAS 

None  of  thy  friends  near  to  guard  ;  *w 

And  I,  all  deaf  and  all  blind, 
Left  thee,  neglected,  to  fall. 
Where,  ah  !  where  does  he  lie, 
Alas,  ill-fated,  with  ill  name  of  woe  ? 
Tec.  Ye  may  not  look  on  him,  but  I  with  robe 
Enfolded  round,  will  hide  him  utterly  ; 
For  none  who  loved  him  now  could  have  the  heart 
To  see  him  still  up-panting  from  his  wound, 
At  cither  nostril,  blackened  gore  and  blood 
Springing  from  that  self-slaughter.     Now,  ah  me  ! 
What  shall  I  do  ?     What  friend  will  lift  thee  up  ?         »» 
And  where  is  Teucros  ?     How  in  timeliest  need 
Would  he  now  come  the  body  to  lay  out 
Of  this  his  fallen  brother  !     O  ill-starred 
Aias,  who,  being  what  thou  wast,  has  fared 
As  now  thou  farest  ;  e'en  from  bitterest  foes 
Thou  now  could'st  claim  the  meed  of  righteous  tears. 
Chor.  O  man  of  many  woes,  'twas  thine,  'twas  thine, 
In  stern  unbending  mood, 
At  the  fixed  hour  to  work 
111  doom  of  boundless  griefs  ; 

So  all  night  long,  till  dawn,  •30 

Thou  poured'st  dire  complaint, 
With  spirit  vexed  to  death, 
Against  the  Atreida:  in  thy  bitter  mood. 
Great  author  of  our  sorrows  was  that  day, 
When  for  the  arms  of  great  Achilles  rose 

Strife  of  the  brave  in  fight. 
Tt(,  Ah  me  !     Ah  misery  ! 
Choi,  True  griefs,  I  know  too  well,  will  pierce  the 

heart 

Tee.  Ah  me  !     Ah  misery  ! 

Chor.  I  wonder  not,  O  woman,  thou  should'st  groan  wo 
Vet  more,  but  now  of  such  a  friend  bereaved. 

Tec.  Thine  '*is  to  think  ;    mine  all  too  well  to  know. 


AIAS 

Chor.  I  own  it  so. 

Tec.  Ah  me  !  to  what  a  yoke  of  bondage,  child, 
We  now  draw  nigh,  what  watchers  over  us  ! 
Chor.  Ah  !   thou  hast  spoken  now 
Of  deeds  unutterable, 
By  the  Atreidae  stern 
Heaped  upon  this  our  grief: 
But  may  God  ward  it  off ! 

Tec,  But  for  the  Gods  this  had  not  happened  so.     ' 
Cbor.  Yea,  they  have  wrought  a  trouble  hard  to  bear. 
Tec .  Such  woe  does  Pallas,  dreaded  child  of  Zeus, 
For  her  Odysseus'  sake  inflict  on  us. 
Chor.  Lo  !  the  man  subtle  to  dare, 
Mocks  in  the  dark  of  his  soul, 
And  laughs  at  this  frenzy  of  woe 
(Fie  on  't !)  a  laugh  loud  and  long, 
And  with  him  those  who  share  the  name  of  king, 

The  Atreidae,  as  they  hear. 
Tec.  Let  them,  then,  mock  and  laugh  at  this  man's 

woes  ; 

The  time  may  come  when  they  who  did  not  care 
To  see  him  living,  in  the  need  of  war 
May  groan  that  he  is  dead  ;  for  still  the  base 
In  purpose  never  know  the  good  they  have, 
Until  they  lose  it.     Bitter  woe  to  me 
His  death  has  brought,  to  them  good  cheer,  but  joy, 
Great  joy  to  him  ;  for  what  he  sought  to  gain, 
Yea,  death  that  he  desired,  he  now  hath  won. 
[How,  then,  can  they  exult  in  this  man's  death  ? 
Twas  for  the  Gods,  and  not  for  them  he  died.]  'T0 

In  empty  vaunt,  then,  let  Odysseus  boast, 
For  Aias  is  beyond  them  ;  but  for  me 
He  leaves,  departing,  wailing  and  lament. 

Enter  TEUCROS. 
Ttu.  Woe  is  me  I     Ah,  woe  1 


AIAS 

Cbor.  [To  TECMESSA.]  Hush  !  for  I  think  I   hear  out 

Teucros  cry, 
With  wailing  loud  that  hits  this  great  woe's  mark. 

Teu.  O  best-loved  Aias,  brother  dear  to  me, 
Hast  thou,  then,  fared  so  ill  as  rumour  holds  ? 

Cbor.  Our  lord  is  dead,  O  Teucros,  doubt  it  not. 

Teu.  Oh,  woe  is  me  !     Woe  for  my  grievous  lot !    e88 

Chor.  At  such  a  pass  .  .  . 

Teu.  Oh,  miserable  me  ! 

Cbor.  Thou  well  may'st  groan. 

Teu.  O  rash  and  ruthless  death  ! 

Chor.  Too  truly  so,  O  Teucros. 

Teu.  Woe  is  me  ! 

What  of  his  child  ?     Where  in  all  Tro'ia  is  he  ? 

Chor.  Alone,  within  the  tents. 

Teu.  Why  bring  ye  not 

With  quickest  speed  the  boy,  lest  any  foe 
Seize  him,  as  whelp  of  lonely  lioness  ? 
Go,  hasten,  work  together.     All  are  wont 
To  treat  with  scorn  the  dead  that  prostrate  lie. 

[Some  of  the  Chorus  bring  in  EURYSAKES. 

Chor.  And  while  he  lived,  O  Teucros,  thee  he  charged, 
For  this  his  boy  to  care,  as  now  thou  car'st.  [W'J 

Teu.  Sight  of  all  sights  most  painful  ;  of  all  paths 
Path  vexing  most  my  spirit,  this,  which  now 
My  feet  have  taken,  where,  O  Aias  dear, 
Still  following  thee  and  tracking  out  thy  course, 
1  learnt  thy  fate  :  for  lo  !  a  swift  report, 
As  though  some  God  had  spread  it,  went  of  thee 
Through  all  the  Achaeans,  that  thy  death  had  come  ; 
And  I  in  woe,  and  hearing  it  far  off, 
Groaned  low  ;  and  seeing,  perish  utterly. 
Ah,  me  !  [Some  of  the  Chorus,  as  he  speaks,  uncover  tht 

body  of  AIAS. 

Come,  lay  it  bare,  that  I  may  see  it  well, 
The  whole  dread  evil.     O  most  ghastly  sight, 
88 


AIAS 

And  work  of  bitter  daring,  what  a  woe 

Thou,  in  thy  death,  hast  sown  for  me  !     Where  go, 

Among  what  men,  I  who  in  all  thy  woes 

Have  failed  to  help  thee  ?     Telamon,  I  trow, 

My  father,  and  thine  too,  will  welcome  me 

With  cheerful  glances,  full  of  kindly  mood,  W1° 

Without  thee  coming  !     Can  he  fail  to  frown 

Who,  e'en  when  all  went  well,  but  seldom  smiled 

Too  pleasantly  on  men  ?     What  word  of  wrath 

Will  he  now  hide?     What  evil  utter  not  ? 

Reproaching  me  as  bastard,  captive-born, 

Who,  in  my  coward,  base  unmanliness 

Abandoned  thee,  O  Aias,  or  in  guile, 

That,  on  thy  death,  I  might  thy  sceptre  wield 

And  rule  thy  house  ?     Such  foul  reproach  will  he, 

Rough  in  his  mood,  and  vexed  sore  with  age, 

Vent  in  his  wrath,  by  trifles  light  as  air 

To  fiercest  anger  kindled.     And  at  last 

I  shall  be  hurled  an  outcast  from  my  home,1 

Bearing  the  name  of  slave  instead  of  free.  mr 

Such  fate  awaits  me  there.     In  Troia  here 

Many  my  foes,  and  few  the  things  that  help  ; 

And  this,  all  this,  thy  death  hath  brought  to  me. 

What  shall  I  do  ?     Alas  !  how  lift  thee  up 

From  this   bright  sword  whose  murderous   point  hath 

brought 

Thee,  wretched  one,  to  death  ?     And  did'st  thou  know 
How  Hector  thus,  though  dead,  should  bring  thee  low  ? 
Now,  by  the  Gods,  look  ye  upon  the  fate 
Of  those  two  men — how  Hector,  with  the  belt 
Which  this  man  gave  him,  bound  to  chariot's  wheel,  10S° 
Was  dragged  and  mangled,  on  and  on,  till  death ; 

1  The  words  of  Teucros  point  prophetically  to  his  later  history. 
He  left  Salamis,  according  to  the  legend,  because  his  father  drove 
him  from  his  presence,  went  to  Kypros,  and  there  founded  a  city, 
which  he  named  Salamis,  in  memory  of  his  fatherland. 


AIAS 

While  he  who  had  this  sword  as  Hector's  gift,1 
Brought  death  upon  himself  by  one  fell  leap. 
Oh,  did  some  dread  Erinnys  forge  this  sword, 
And  Hades,  stern  artificer,  that  belt  ? 
I  must  needs  own  the  Gods  as  working  this, 
And  all  things  else  that  come  to  mortal  men  ; 
And  he  who  thinks  not  so,  why,  let  him  have 
His  own  thoughts  if  he  will  ;  I  hold  to  these. 

Chor.  Be  not  too  long,  but  ponder  well  how  best    1<H* 
Thou  may'st  inter  his  body  in  the  tomb, 
And  what  thou  now  wilt  say ;  for,  lo  !   I  see 
A  man,  his  foe,  exulting,  it  may  be, 
As  evil-doer  at  the  evil  done. 

Teu.  What  man  of  all  the  host  is  this  thou  see'st  ? 

Chor.  'Tis  Menelaos,  for  whose  sake  we  sailed. 

Teu    I  see  him.     Near,  he  is  not  hard  to  know. 

Enter  MENELAOS,  followed  bj  a  Herald,  and  Attendants. 

Mene.  Ho,  there  !  I  bid  thee  not  to  touch  this  corpse 
With  these  thy  hands,  but  leave  it  as  it  is. 

Teu.  And  why  dost  thou  such  big  words  lavish  here  ? 

Mene.  So  think  I  :  so  thinks  he  who  rules  the  host.  106° 

Teu.   Wilt  thou  not  say  what  ground  thou  giv'st  for 
this? 

Mene.   Because  we  hoped  to  bring  him  from  his  home, 
Ally  and  friend  to  all  the  Achaean  host, 
And  found  him  than  the  Phrygians  worser  foe, 
Who,  plotting  death  to  all  the  host  at  once, 
Came  on  by  night  that  he  might  slay  with  sword  ; 
And  were  it  not  some  God  had  quashed  the  scheme, 
We  should  have  fallen,  and,  in  shameful  plight, 
By  chance  which  now  is  his,  had  lain  there  dead, 
And  he  had  lived  ;  but  now  a  God  has  turned 
His  wanton  rage  to  fall  on  flocks  and  herds  ; 

1  Comp.  Iliad,  vii.  303,  xxii.  361.  .  .  .  Homer,  however,  makes 
Achilles  drag  the  corfte  of  Hector  at  his  chariot-wheel  s. 
90 


AIAS 

And,  therefore,  there  is  no  man  strong  enough, 

Be  he  who  may,  this  body  to  entomb, 

But,  cast  forth  here  upon  the  yellow  sands, 

It  shall  be  prey  for  birds  that  haunt  the  shore. 

Therefore,  I  bid  thee,  keep  from  furious  wrath  ; 

For  though  we  failed  to  rule  him  while  he  lived, 

We  surely  now  will  master  him  when  dead, 

Wilt  thou,  or  no,  and  with  our  hands  control. 

For  never  when  he  lived  would  he  obey 

The  words  I  spake  :  yet  'tis  a  vile  man's  part 

For  one  among  the  people  not  to  deign 

To  hear  his  masters.     Never  in  a  state 

Can  laws  be  well  administered  when  dread 

Has  ceased  to  act,  nor  can  an  armed  host 

Be  rightly  ruled,  if  no  defence  of  fear 

And  awe  be  present.      But  a  man  should  think, 

Though  sturdy  in  his  frame,  he  yet  may  fall 

By  some  small  chance  of  ill.     And  know  this  well, 

That  he  who  has  both  fear  and  reverence 

Has  also  safety.     But  where  men  are  free 

To  riot  proudly,  and  do  all  their  will, 

That  State,  be  sure,  with  steady-blowing  gale, 

Is  driving  to  destruction,  and  will  fall. 

For  me,  let  seasonable  awe  be  mine, 

Nor  let  us  think  that,  doing  what  we  please, 

We  shall  not  one  day  pay  the  penalty 

In  things  that  pain.     These  things  come  on  in  turn  ; 

This  fellow  here  was  mocker  hot  and  proud  ; 

Now  I  am  lifted  up,  and  charge  thee  there 

This  body  not  to  bury,  lest  thou  too, 

By  burying  him,  should'st  need  a  burial. 

Cbor.  O  Menelaos,  uttering  maxims  wise, 
Do  not  thyself  then  outrage  so  the  dead. 

Ten.  I  cannot  wonder,  friends,  that  one  who  lives, 
Brought  up  in  low  estate,  should  faults  commit, 
When  they  who  deem  they  come  of  noblest  stock 
9» 


AIAS 

Such  faulty  words  will  utter  in  their  speech. 

Come,  let  us  start  afresh :  and  dost  thou  say 

That  thou  did'st  bring  this  man  as  stanch  ally 

To  these  Achasans  ?     Did  he  not  sail  forth, 

Himself  his  only  master  ?     Or  what  right 

Had'st  thou  to  rule  the  people  that  he  led  1WO 

Here  from  his  home  ?     As  Sparta's  king  thou  cam'st, 

And  not  as  ours.     No  greater  right  had'st  thou 

To  rule  o'er  him  than  he  to  reign  o'er  thee. 

Thou  cam'st  an  under-captain,  not  the  lord 

Of  all  the  host,  that  thou  should'st  Aias  lead. 

Rule  those  thou  rulest,  vent  thy  solemn  words 

On  them ;  but  I,  though  thou  should'st  say  me  nay, 

Or  e'en  that  other  leader,  I  will  place 

This  body  in  the  tomb  with  all  due  rites, 

Not  fearing  thy  big  speeches.     He  warred  not 

For  that  thy  wife,  as  these  who  take  their  fill 

Of  many  labours,  but  to  keep  the  oath 

By  which  he  bound  himself.1     'Twas  not  for  thee, 

For  never  did  he  value  men  of  nought. 

Come,  therefore,  bring  more  heralds  with  thee  here ; 

Yea,  bring  the  general's  self.     I  would  not  care 

For  all  thy  stir  while  thou  art  ...  what  thou  art. 

Ghor.  I  do  not  like  such  speech  in  midst  of  ills; 
Sharp  words  will  bite,  however  just  they  be. 

Mene.  This  archer  seems  to  have  a  lofty  soul.8         1118 

Teu.  E'en  so;  I  practise  no  ungentle  craft. 

Mene.  Had'st  thou  a  shield,  thy  boast  would  soar  in- 
deed. 

1  In  the  post-Homeric  legends,  Tyndareus,  the  father  of  Helena, 
bound  all  her  suitors  byan  oath  that  they  would,  in  case  of  calamity, 
come  to  his  daughter's  help. 

3  In  Homer,  both  Gods  and  heroes  use  the  bow  without  any 
thought  of  its  inferiority  to  other  weapons.  Later  changes  in  warfare 
had,  however,  thrown  it  into  the  background  ;  and  in  Sparta  it  was 
used  only  by  the  Periceci ;  in  Athens,  by  the  foreigners  (chiefly 
Scythians  and  Thracians)  who  were  employed  as  a  home-police. 

9* 


AIAS 

Teu.  With  thee,  full-armed,  I'll  match  myself  light- 
armed. 
Mene.  How  mightily   thy   tongue  doth   school    thy 

thought. 

Teu.  With  right  on  our  side  we  may  well  be  proud. 
Mene.  That  he,  slaying  me,  should  prosper,  was  that 

right  ? 
Teu.  "  Slaying  thee  !  "     'Twere  strange  if  thou  wert 

dead,  who  liv'st. 

Mene.  God  saves  me  still ;  in  his  intent  I'm  slain. 
Teu.  Saved  by  the  Gods,  put  not  the  Gods  to  shame. 
Mene.  What  ?     Find  I  fault  with  laws   of  those   in 
heaven  ?  "*> 

Teu.  Yes,  if  thou  stopp'st  my  burying  of  the  dead. 
Mene.  The  burial  of  my  foes  :  for  'tis  not  well. 
Teu.  And  when  was  Aias  ever  found  thy  foe  ? 
Mene.  He  hated  me  ;  I  him  ;  and  this  thou  know'st. 
Teu.  Yes  ;  for  'twas  thou  did'st  cheat  with  juggling 

votes. 

Mene.  That  fault  was  with  the  judges,  not  with  me. 
Teu.  With  goodly  stealth,  then,  thou  would'st  work 

much  ill. 

Mene.  This  speech  shall  bring  a  bitter  grief  to  some. 
Teu.  Not  one  whit  more,  'twould  seem,  than  we  shall 

cause. 

Mene.  I  say  but  this,  thou  shah  not  bury  him.         "*° 
Teu.  And  hear  thou  this,  that  buried  he  shall  be. 
Mene.  I  once  did  see  a  man  full  bold  of  speech, 
Who  urged  his  sailors  in  a  storm  to  sail, 
But  not  a  word  had  he,  when  driven  to  prayer 
By  stress  of  tempest,  but  beneath  a  cloak 
He  crouched,  and  let  each  sailor  tread  on  him ; 
And  so  for  thee,  and  those  thy  haughty  lips, 
Some  great  storm,  blowing  from  a  tiny  cloud, 
Shall  soon,  perchance,  hush  all  thy  clamorous  speech. 
Teu.  And  I  have  seen  a  man  of  folly  full  11M 

93 


AIAS 

Who  wantoned  proudly  in  his  neighbour's  ills, 

And  then  one  came,  in  fashion  like  to  me, 

And  like  in  mood,  and  looked,  and  spake  this  word : 

"  O  man,  abstain  from  outrage  to  the  dead, 

For  if  thou  dost  it,  dearly  shalt  thou  pay." 

Such  counsel  did  he  give  that  wretched  fool, 

And  now  I  see  him ;  and  he  is,  'twould  seem, 

None  else  but  thee.     Do  I  speak  parables  ? 

Mene.  I  go  my  way,  for  it  is  sore  disgrace 
With  words  to  punish,  force  being  in  our  power.    [Exit. 

Teu.  Go,  then,  thy  way ;  to  me  'tis  worst  disgrace 
To  hear  a  vain  fool  prating  empty  words. 

Chor.  Struggle  of  mighty  strife  there  soon  will  be ; 
But  thou,  O  Teucros,  speed, 
Haste,  some  deep  pit  to  find, 
Where  he  shall  find  a  grave  of  dreariest  gloom, 
Yet  one  which  men  will  hold  in  memory. 

[TECMESSA  advances,  with  EURYSAKES 
holding  her  hand. 

Teu.  And  lo !  they  come  at  very  nick  of  time, 
And  stand  hard  by,  this  hero's  wife  and  child, 
To  deck  the  burial  of  the  ill-starred  dead. 
Come  hither,  boy,  and  standing  suppliantly, 
Lay  hand  upon  the  father  that  begat  thee, 
And  sitting  in  the  guise  of  one  who  prays, 
Hold  in  thy  hands  my  locks,  and  hers,  and  thine, 
A  treasure  of  entreaty.     And  should  one 
In  all  our  army  tear  thee  from  the  dead, 
May  he  thus  base,  unburied,  basely  die, 
An  exile  from  his  home,  with  all  his  race 
As  utterly  cut  off,  as  I  now  cut 
This  braided  lock.     Take  it,  O  boy,  and  keep ; 
Let  no  man  move  thee,  hold  it  suppliant ; 
And  ye  stand  by  him,  not  as  women  found 
Who  should  be  men,  but  help  him  till  I  come 
To  bury  him,  though  all  should  hinder  me.  [Exit. 

94 


AIAS 

STROPHE  I 
Chor.  When  will  it  end,  the  last  of  wandering  years, 

That  ever  bring  to  me 

The  ceaseless  woe  of  war's  unresting  toils,  u* 

Through  Troia,  drear  and  wide, 
The  Hellenes'  shame  and  reproach  ? 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
Would    that    that    man    had    entered    Heaven's    high 

vault, 

Or  Hades,  man's  last  home, 

Who  for  the  Hellenes  stirred  War's  hateful  strife ; 
(O  woes  that  woe  beget !) 
For  he  hath  laid  men  low. 

STROPHE  II 

He  hath  given  me  never  to  share 
The  joy  of  garlands  of  flowers, 
Nor  that  of  the  deep,  flowing  cups, 
Nor  the  dulcet  notes  of  the  flute, 
Nor— curses  light  on  his  head  ! — 
The  pleasure  that  cometh  with  sleep. 
Yea,  from  love,  from  love  and  its  joys 
He  hath  cut  me  ofF.     (Ah,  woe  is  me  !) 
And  here  I  lie,  cared  for  by  none, 
My  locks  all  wet  with  the  dews, 
Keepsake  of  Tro'ia  the  sad. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Till  now  against  terrors  of  night, 
And  sharp  arrows  a  bulwark  and  stay, 
Was  Aias,  the  mighty  and  strong  ; 
Now  he,  too,  a  victim  is  gone 
To  the  God  that  ruleth  in  gloom  ; 
What  joy  remaineth  for  me? 
Would  I  were  there,  where  the  rock, 
Thick-wooded  and  washed  by  the  waves, 
95 


AIAS 

Hangs  o'er  the  face  of  the  deep, 
Under  Sunion's  broad  jutting  peak, 
That  there  we  might  hail,  once  again, 
Athens,  the  holy,  the  blest.1 

Enter  TBUCROI. 

Teu.  Lo !   I  have  hastened,  seeing  our  general  come, 
Our  Agamemnon,  speeding  on  his  way, 
And  plain  it  is  he  comes  to  speak  hard  words. 

Enter  AGAMEMNON. 

Agam.  They  tell  me  that  thou  darcst  fearful  words 
To  vent  against  us  with  impunity, 
Thou,  yes,  e'en  thou,  of  captive  mistress  born  ; 
A  noble  mother  truly  can'st  thou  boast, 
That  thou  dost  speak  so  loftily,  and  walk 
On  tip-toe  proudly,  who,  being  nought,  dost  strive      1IK 
For  him  who  is  as  nothing,  and  dost  swear 
We  did  not  come  to  rule  the  host  or  fleet, 
Or  thee,  or  the  Achacans ;  but  thou  say'st 
That  Aias  sailed  himself  his  only  lord. 
And  are  not  these  big  words  to  hear  from  slaves  ? 
And  what  was  he  for  whom  thou  vauntest  thus  ? 
Where  went  he,  or  where  stood,  where  I  was  not  1 
Had  the  Achaeans  then  no  men  but  him  ? 
A  strife  full  bitter  for  Achilles'  arms 
We  set  before  the  Argives  then,  'twould  seem, 
If  everywhere  a  Teucros  call  us  base, 
And  ye  are  not  content,  though  worsted  quite, 
To  yield  to  what  the  judges  have  decreed 
With  all  but  one  consent,  but  still  revile 
Our  name,  and,  when  defeated,  strike  at  us 

i  The  words  point  to  what  every  hearer  of  the  play  must  have 
been  familiar  with.  As  a  homeward  ship  rounded  the  point  oi 
Sunion.  the  Acropolis  was  seen  in  the  distance,  and  all  on  board 
offered  their  prayers  to  the  two  national  deities,  Athena  and 
Poseidon,  whose  shrines  stood  on  the  promontory. 
96 


AIAS 

In  secret  guile.     With  such  a  mood  as  this 

There  can  be  no  establishment  of  law, 

If  we  shall  cast  off  those  whose  right  prevails, 

And  lead  the  hindmost  to  the  foremost  rank. 

Nay,  we  must  check  these  things.     The  safest  men 

Are  not  the  stout,  broad-shouldered,  brawny  ones,       1KO 

But  still  wise  thinkers  everywhere  prevail ; 

And  ';xen,  broad  of  back,  by  smallest  scourge 

Are,  spite  of  all,  driven  forward  in  the  way  ; 

And  that  sure  spell,  I  see,  will  come  ere  long 

On  thee,  unless  thou  somehow  wisdom  gain, 

Who,  when  thy  lord  is  gone,  a  powerless  shade, 

Art  bold,  with  wanton  insolence  of  speech. 

Wilt  thou  not  learn  self-mastery  ?     Wilt  thou  not, 

Remembering  what  thou  art  by  birth,  when  next 

Thou  comest,  bring  some  free-born  man  with  thee         129° 

Who,  in  thy  stead,  shall  speak  thy  words  to  us  ?* 

For  I,  indeed,  learn  nothing  by  thy  speech, 

Thy  barbarous  accent  so  offends  mine  ear. 

Chor,  Would  that  ye  both  self-mastery  could  learn  : 
Better  than  this  I  cannot  wish  you  both. 

Teu.  Alas  !     How  soon  the  credit  of  the  dead 
Flits,  and  is  gone,  and  proves  but  treacherous  stay, 
When  this  man,  Aias,  takes  no  count  of  thee, 
Not  e'en  in  poor,  cheap  words,  for  whom  thou  oft 
Thy  life  exposing,  strovest  in  the  fight  ; 
But  all  the  past  is  past,  and  thrown  aside. 
O  thou  that  speakest  such  a  senseless  speech, 
Hast  thou  no  memory,  none,  of  that  same  day 
When  ye  were  shut  within  the  bulwarks  high, 
Already  good  as  dead,  and  he,  himself, 
Alone,  came  on  to  help,  and  freed  you  all, 

1  A  slave,  or  foreigner,  according  to  the  laws  of  Athens  and  most 
Greek  sta^s,  was  not  allowed  to  plead  personally,  but  had  to  be 
represented  by  a  citizen.  Agamemnon  taunts  Teucros— as  the  son, 
not  of  Eriboea,  the  wife,  but  of  Hesione,  the  concubine,  of  Telamon 
— with  being  an  alien. 

ii  97  o 


AIAS 

Putting  to  flight  your  foes,  when  fire  had  seized 

*Your  ships'  tall  masts,  and  where  the  sailors  sit, 

And  Hector's  self  was  leaping  o'er  the  trench 

Right  on  your  sailors'  boats  P1     Who  staved  this  off? 

Was  it  not  he  of  whom  thou  n?w  dost  say, 

That  never  did  he  stir  a  foot  rbr  thee  ? 

Nay,  wrought  he  not  in  your  sight  noble  deeds  I 

And  yet  once  more,  when  he  went  forth  to  meet, 

In  single  combat,  Hector,  casting  lots, 

At  no  man's  word,  the  lot  which  he  put  in 

Was  no  deserter,  lump  of  moistened  clay,1 

But  one  full  sure  to  be  the  first  to  leap 

With  nimble  spring  from  out  the  crested  helm  ; 

'Twas  he  that  did  all  this,  and  I  with  him, 

The  base-born  slave,  of  alien  mother  sprung. 

Thou  wretch,  what  face  hast  thou  to  utter  this  ?          129° 

And  know'st  thou  not  the  father  that  begat 

Thy  father,  Pelops,  was  of  alien  blood, 

A  Phrygian  born  of  old  ; 3  that  Atreus,  he 

Who  gave  thec  life,  was  godless  in  his  deeds, 

And  placed  before  his  brother  banquet  foul 

Of  his  own  children's  flesh  ;  and  thou  thyself 

Wast  born  of  Cretan  mother,  whom  her  sire, 

Detecting  with  the  alien,  headlong  cast 

A  prey  to  voiceless  fishes  ?     And  dost  thou, 

Such  as  thou  art,  reproach  me  with  my  birth, 

Such  as  I  am,  who  on  my  father's  side, 

1  Comp.  Iliad,  xv.  415. 

3  Sophocles,  with  a  slight  anachronism,  brings  before  his  Athenian 
audience  what  they  were  always  willing  to  listen  to,  the  story  of  the 
fraud  by  which  the  Dorian  Cresphontes  had  obtained  possession  of 
Messenia 

1  In  one  form  of  the  Pelops  mythos,  Thyestes,  the  brother  of 
Atreus,  was  the  adulterer,  and  Atreus  drowned  the  adulteress. 
Here,  however,  Sophocles  follows  the  legend  which  made  Aerope, 
while  yet  in  Crete,  guilty  of  unchastity,  and  condemned  by  her 
father,  Cratreus,  to  die  by  drowning.  The  executioner  spared  her 
life,  and  she  afterwards  married  Atreus. 
98 


AIAS 

From  Telamon  am  sprung,  who  gained  the  prize 

Of  all  the  host  for  valour,  and  obtained 

My  mother  as  a  concubine,  who  claimed 

A  kingly  birth  from  old  Laomedon, 

And  whom  Alcmena's  son  as  chosen  gift 

Gave  to  my  father  ?     And  should  I,  thus  sprung 

Noble,  from  noblest,  shame  my  kith  and  kin, 

Whom  now,  in  such  ill  plight  as  this  enwrapt, 

Thou  thrustest  out  unburied,  and  dost  feel 

No  shame  to  speak  it  ?     But  of  this  be  sure, 

If  ye  will  cast  him  forth,  ye  will  cast,  too, 

Us  three  around  him  clinging  ;  for  'twere  good, 

Striving  for  him  to  die  in  open  fight, 

'Much  rather  than  for  that  false  wife  of  thine,1 

Or  for  thy  brother  ;  wherefore  look  thou  well 

Not  to  my  business  only  but  thine  own  ; 

For  should'st  thou  hurt  me,  thou  shalt  wish  to  be 

A  coward  rather  than  wax  bold  on  me. 

Enter  ODYSSEUS. 

Chor.  Thou  com'st,  O  King  Odysseus,  seasonably, 
If  thou  art  here  to  stop,  not  stir  the  strife. 

O*/)'/.  What  is  it,  sirs  ?  for  from  afar  I  heard 
The  Atreidae's  clamour  o'er  this  noble  corpse. 

Agam.  And  have  we  not,  O  King  Odysseus,  heard  132° 
But  now  most  shameful  language  from  this  man  ? 

Odys.  What  was  it  ?    I  can  much  forgive  a  man 
Who,  hearing  vile  things,  answers  evil  words. 

Agam.  Foul  words  he  heard,  for  such  his  deeds  to  me. 

Qdys.  And  what  was  this  he  did  that  injured  thee  ? 

Agam.  He    says  he  will   not    leave    this  corpse   un- 
tombed, 

1  So  the  text  stands,  yet  the  Trojan  war  was  waged,  not  for  the 
wife  of  Agamemnon,  but  for  Helen,  the  wife  of  Menelaos.  There 
may,  perhaps,  be  a  taunt  implied  in  the  phrase,  implying  either 
(i)  that  Agamemnon  fought  for  Helen  as  if  he  were  her  husband, 
or  (2)  that  he  was  urged  to  the  war  by  his  own  wife,  the  sister  ol 
Helen. 

99 


AIAS 

But,  spite  of  my  command,  will  bury  it. 

Odys.  And  may  I,  as  a  friend  who  speaks  the  truth, 
Row  in  thy  boat,  as  welcome  as  before? 

Agam.  Speak  on  ;  or  else  I  should  be  most  unwise,  ^ 
Who  count  thee,  of  all  Argives,  truest  friend. 

Odys.  Hear  then  ;  by  all  the  Gods,  I  thee  entreat, 
Cast  not  this  man  out  so  unfeelingly, 
Nor  leave  him  there  unburied.     Let  not  wrath 
Prevail  on  thee  that  thou  should'st  hate  so  far 
As  upon  right  to  trample.     Unto  me 
This  man  of  all  the  host  was  greatest  foe, 
Since  I  prevailed  to  gain  Achilles'  arms ; 
But,  though  he  were  so,  being  what  he  was, 
I  would  not  put  so  foul  a  shame  on  him, 
As  not  to  own  I  looked  upon  a  man, 
The  best  and  bravest  of  the  Argive  host, 
Of  all  that  came  to  Troia,  saving  one, 
Achilles'  self.     Most  wrong  'twould  therefore  be 
That  he  should  suffer  outrage  at  thy  hands ; 
Thou  would'st  not  trample  upon  him  alone, 
But  on  the  laxvs  of  God.     It  is  not  right 
To  harm,  though  thou  should'st  chance  to  hate  him  sore, 
A  man  of  noble  nature  lying  dead. 

Agam.  Art    thou,   Odysseus,    this    man's    champion 
found  ? 

Odys.  E'en  so  ;  I  hated  while  'twas  right  to  hate. 

Agam.  Ought'st  thou  not   then   to   trample  on  him 
dead? 

Odyi.  In  wrongful  gain,  Atreides,  find  not  joy. 

Agam.  Full     hard    this    fear   of  God    for   sovereign 

11V) 

prince. 

Odys.  Not  so  to  honour  friends  who  counsel  well. 
Agam.  The  noblest  man  should  those  that  rule  obey. 
Odys.  Hush  !    thou  dost   rule  when  worsted   by  liy 

friends. 
Agam.  Remember  thou  to  whom  thou  giv'st  this  grace. 


AIAS 

Odys.  An  enemy,  but  still  a  noble  one. 

A 'gam.  What  wilt  thou  ?     Dost   thou  a  foe's  corpse 
revere  ? 

Odys.  Far  more  than  hatred  valour  weigh*  with  me. 

Agam.  Fickle  and  wayward,  natures  such  as  thine. 

Odys.  Many  once  friends  again  are  bitter  foes. 

Agam.  And  dost  thou  praise  the  getting  friends  like 
these  ?  1MO 

Odys.  Unbending  mood  I  am  not  wont  to  praise. 

Agam.  Thou  wilt  this  very  day  make  cowards  of  us. 

Odys.  Nay,  righteous  men  in  all  the  Hellenes'  eyes. 

Agam.  And  dost  thou  bid  me  let  him  bury  it  ? 

Odys.  I  do,  for  I  myself  shall  come  to  that. 

Agam.  All  men  are  like ;  each  labours  for  himself. 

Odys.  Whom  should  I  work  for  more  than  for  myself? 

Agam.  It  shall  be  called  thy  work  then,  and  not  mine. 

Odys.  Howe'er  that  be,  in  any  case  thou'rt  kind. 

Agam.  But    know   this  well,  that  I  would  grant   to 
thee  1S7° 

Far  greater  boon  than  even  this  thou  ask'st ; 
But  as  for  him,  or  here,  or  there,  he  still 
Is  hateful  to  me  ;  ...  But  have  thou  thy  will. 

Chor.  Who  says,  Odysseus,  thou'rt  not  wise  of  heart, 
Being  what  thou  art,  shall  prove  himself  a  fool. 

Odyi.  And  now  I  tell  to  Teucros  that  I  stand 
A  friend  as  true  as  once  I  was  a  foe, 
And  I  desire  to  join  in  burying  him 
Who  there  lies  dead,  to  join  in  all  the  toil, 
And  fail  in  nought  of  all  that  men  should  pay 
Of  homage  to  the  noblest  men  of  earth. 

Teu.  O  good  Odysseus,  words  of  praise  are  mine 
For  all  thou  dost,  and  thou  hast  falsified 
My  thoughts  of  thee,  for  thou,  most  hostile  found 
To  him  of  all  the  Argives,  stood'st  alone 
To  help  him  with  thy  hands,  and  did'st  not  dare 
To  trample  living  upon  him  the  dead, 


AIAS 

When  this  brain-stricken  captain  of  the  host, 

He  and  his  brother  with  him,  came  and  sought 

To  cast  him  out  deprived  of  sepulture. 

Now,  therefore,  may  the  Father  whose  high  sway 

Olympos  rules,  Erinnys  noting  guilt, 

And  Justice  the  avenger  punish  them 

For  foul  deeds  foully,  even  as  they  wished 

To  cast  this  man  to  shame  unmerited. 

And  thee,  O  son  of  aged  Lartios, 

Loth  am  I  now  to  let  thee  take  thy  share 

In  burying  him,  lest  I  perchance  should  do 

What  he,  the  dead,  approves  not.     [All  the  rest 

Do  thou  do  with  me,  and,  if  thou  wilt  bring 

Some  soldiers  from  the  host,  we  shall  not  grieve.] 

All  else  will  I  do,  and  for  thee,  know  well, 

Thou  show'st  thyself  to  us  as  great  of  soul. 

Odys.  I  fain  had  joined,  but  if  it  please  thee  not 
That  we  should  share,  I  go  thy  words  accepting. 
Tea.  Enough  ;  already  the  time 

Is  wearing  swiftly  away  ; 

Haste  ye,  some  to  prepare 

A  deep  hollowed  pit  for  the  grave, 

And  some  a  tall  tripod  set 

Fit  for  our  task,  girt  with  fire, 

Meet  for  washing  the  dead. 

One  band,  let  it  fetch  from  the  tent 

His  breast-plate,  his  greaves,  and  his  sword  : 

And  thou,  O  boy,  in  thy  love, 

With  all  the  strength  that  thou  hast, 

Here,  with  thy  hand  on  his  side, 

Thy  father's,  lift  him  with  me  ; 

For  still  the  hot  veins  pour  their  stream, 

The  dark,  thick  blood  of  his  strength. 

But  come  ye,  come,  one  and  all, 

Who  boast  of  yourselves  as  his  friends  ; 

Hasten,  come  quick  to  the  work, 


AIAS 

Labouring  for  him  who  in  all 
Was  good,  and  none  better  than  he. 
Cbor.  Men  may  know  many  things  on  seeing  them 

But,  ere  they  come  in  sight, 
No  man  is  prophet  of  the  things  that  come. 
To  tell  how  he  shall  tare. 


P  H I LOCTETES 

DRAMATIS   PERSON* 

ODYSSEUS.  HERACLES. 

NEOPTOLEMOS,  son  of  ACHILLES.  Attendant. 

PHILOCTETES.  Sailor. 

ARGUMENT.— Philoctetes,  son  of  Pceas,  king  of  the 
Malians,  of  (Eta,  in  Thessaly,  wooed  Helena,  the  daughter 
of  Tyndareus ;  and  her  father  having  bound  him  and  the 
other  suitors  by  an  oath,  to  defend  her  in  case  of  wrong,  he 
joined  the  great  expedition  of  the  Hellenes  against  Troia. 
And  as  he  landed  at  Chryse,  treading  rashly  on  the  sacred 
ground  of  the  nymph  from  whom  the  island  took  its  name, 
he  was  bitten  in  the  foot  by  a  snake  ;  and  the  wound  became 
so  noisome,  and  the  cries  of  his  agony  so  sharp,  that  the  host 
could  not  endure  his  presence,  and  sent  him  in  charge  of 
Odysseus  to  Lemnos,  and  there  he  was  left.  And  nine  years 
passed  away,  and  Achilles  had  died,  and  Hector,  and  Aias, 
and  yet  Troia  was  not  taken.  But  the  Greeks  took  prisoner 
Helenas,  a  son  of  Priam,  who  had  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and 
they  learnt  from  him  that  it  was  decreed  that  it  should  never 
be  taken  but  by  the  son  of  Achilles,  and  with  the  bow  of 
Heracles.  Now,  this  bow  was  in  the  hands  of  Philoctetes, 
for  Heracles  loved  him,  because  he  found  him  faithful;  and 
when  he  died  on  (Eta,  it  was  Philoctetes  who  climbed  up  the 
hill  with  him,  and  prepared  the  funeral  Pyre,  and  kindled  it : 
therefore  Heracles  gave  him  his  arrows  and  his  bow.  The 
Hellenes,  then,  first  sent  to  Skyros  to  fetch  Neoptolemos,  the 
son  of  Achilles,  and  then,  when  he  had  arrived,  they  despatched 
him  with  Odysseus  to  bring  Philoctetes  from  Lemnos. 
105 


PHILOCTETES 

SCINI. — The  share  of  Lemnoi.      Rtcts  and  a  Cavt  in  tie  backpound. 

Enter  ODYSSEUS,  NEOPTOLEMOS,  and  Attendant,  fol- 
lowed by  Chorus  of  Sailors,  who  remain  in  tke 
background. 

OJys.  Here,  then,  we  reach  this  shore  of  sea-girt  isle, 
Of  Lemnos,  by  the  foot  of  man  untrod, 
Without  inhabitant,  where,  long  ago, 
(O  thou  who  growest  up  to  man's  estate, 
Sprung  from  a  father  noblest  of  the  Greeks, 
Son  of  Achilles,  Neoptolemos,) 
I  set  on  shore  the  Melian,  Pceas'  son, 
His  foot  all  ulcerous  with  an  eating  sore, 
Sent  on  this  errand  by  the  chiefs  that  rule ; 
For  never  were  we  able  tranquilly 
To  join  in  incense-offerings,  nor  to  pour 
Libations,  but  with  clamour  fierce  and  wild 
He  harassed  all  the  encampment,  shouting  loud, 
And  groaning  low.     What  need  to  speak  of  this  ? 
It  is  no  time  for  any  length  of  speech, 
Lest  he  should  hear  of  my  approach,  and  I 
Upset  the  whole  contrivance  wherewithal 
I  think  to  take  him.     But  thy  task  it  is 
To  do  thine  office  now,  and  search  out  well 
Where  lies  a  cavern  here  with  double  mouth, 
Where  in  the  winter  twofold  sunny  side 
Is  found  to  sit  in,  while  in  summer  heat 
The  breeze  sends  slumber  through  the  tunnelled  vault ; 
And  iust  below,  a  little  to  the  left,  " 


PHILOCTETES 

Thou  may'st  perchance  a  stream  of  water  see, 
If  still  it  flow  there.     Go,  and  show  in  silence 
If  he  is  dwelling  in  this  self-same  spot, 
Or  wanders  elsewhere,  that  in  all  that  comes 
Thou  may'st.  give  heed  to  me,  and  I  may  speak, 
4Uid  common  counsels  work  for  good  from  both. 

Neop.  {Clambering  on  the  rocks.]  O  King  Odysseus,  no 

far  task  thou  giv'st ; 
For  such  a  cave,  methinks,  I  see  hard  by. 

Odys.  Above  thee  or  below  ?  for  this  I  see  not. 

Neop.  *Here,  just  above  ;  yet  footstep  there  is  none. 

Odys.  Look  to  it  lest  he  chance  to  sleep  within.        *J 

Neop.  I  see  an  empty  cave  untenanted. 

Odys.  *Are  there  no  household  luxuries  within  ? 

Neop.  Some  leaves  pressed  down  as  for  some  dweller's 
use. 

Odys.  Is  all  else  empty?  nought  beneath  the  roof? 

Neop.  A  simple  cup  of  wood,  the  common  work 
Of  some  poor  craftsman,  and  this  tinder  stuff. 

Odys.  His  precious  store  it  is  thou  tell'st  me  of. 

Neop.  [Starting  back.']  Ah  !   ...  And  here,  too,  these 

rags  are  set  to  dry, 
Full  of  some  foul  and  sickening  noisomeness. 

Odys.  Clearly  the  man  is  dwelling  in  this  spot,          *• 
And  is  not  distant.     How  could  one  so  worn 
With  that  old  evil  in  his  foot  go  far  ? 
But  either  he  is  gone  in  search  of  food, 
Or  knows  perchance  some  herb  medicinal ; 
And  therefore  send  this  man  to  act  the  scout, 
Lest  he  should  come  upon  me  unawares, 
For  he  would  rather  seize  on  me  than  take 
All  other  Argives.  [Exit  Attendant. 

Neop.  He  is  gone  to  watch 

The  path.     If  aught  thou  needest,  speak  again. 

Odys.  Now  should'st    thou    prove    thyself,   Achilles' 
son, 

10* 


PHILOCTETES 

Stout-hearted  for  the  task  for  which  thou  cam'st, 

Not  in  thy  body  only,  but  if  thou 

Should'st    hear  strange  things,   by   thee   unknown   till 

now, 
Still  give  thy  help,  as  subaltern  to  me. 

Neop.  What  dost  thou  bid  me  ? 

Odys.  Thou  must  cheat  and  trick 

The  heart  of  Philoctetes  with  thy  words ; 
And  when  he  asks  thee  who  and  what  thou  art, 
Say  thou'rt  Achilles'  son,  (that  hide  thou  not,) 
And  that  thou  sailest  homeward,  leaving  there 
The  Achaeans'  armament;  with  bitter  hate 
Hating  them  all,  who  having  sent  to  beg 
Thy  coming  with  their  prayers,  as  having  this  •" 

Their  only  way  to  capture  Ilion's  towers, 
Then  did  not  deign  to  grant  thee,  seeking  them 
With  special  claims,  our  great  Achilles'  arms, 
But  gave  them  to  Odysseus.     What  thou  wilt 
Say  thou  against  me  to  the  utmost  ill : 
In  this  thou  wilt  not  grieve  me ;  but  if  thou 
Wilt  not  do  this,  on  all  the  Argive  host 
Thou  wilt  bring  sorrow ;  for,  unless  we  get 
His  bow  and  arrows,  it  will  not  be  thine 
To  sack  the  plain  of  Dardanos.     And  how 
I  cannot  have,  and  thou  may'st  have  access 
To  him  both  safe  and  trustworthy,  learn  thus ; 
For  thou  hast  sailed  as  bound  by  oath  to  none,1 
Not  by  constraint,  nor  with  the  earlier  host, 
But  none  of  all  these  things  can  I  deny; 
So,  if  he  sees  me  while  he  holds  his  bow, 
I  perish,  and  shall  cause  thy  death  as  well. 
But  this  one  piece  of  craft  thou  needs  must  work, 

1  For  the  suitors  of  Helen,  who  followed  Agamemnon  because  of 
the  oath  with  which  her  father  Tyndareus  had  bound  them,  it  would 
have  been  disgraceful  to  leave  the  army.  Neoptolemos  was  under 
no  such  obligations,  and  this  would  give  a  probability  to  this  story 
which,  with  any  other  of  the  host,  would  be  wanting. 
109 


PHILOCTETES 

That  thou  may'st  steal  those  arms  invincible. 

I  know,  O  boy,  thy  nature  is  not  apt 

To  speak  such  things,  nor  evil  guile  devise ;  * 

But  sweet  it  is  to  gain  the  conqueror's  prize; 

Therefore  be  bold.     Hereafter,  once  again, 

We  will  appear  in  sight  of  all  as  just. 

But  now  for  one  short  day  give  me  thyself, 

And  cast  off  shame,  and  then,  in  time  to  come, 

Be  honoured,  as  of  all  men  most  devout. 

Neop.  The  things,  O  son  of  Lartios,  which  I  grieve 
To  hear  in  words,  those  same  I  hate  to  do. 
I  was  not  born  to  act  with  evil  arts, 
Nor  I  myself,  nor,  as  they  say,  my  sire. 
Prepared  am  I  to  take  the  man  by  force, 
And  not  by  fraud :  for  he  with  one  weak  foot 
Will  fail  in  strength  to  master  force  like  ours ; 
And  yet,  being  sent  thy  colleague,  I  am  loth 
To  get  the  name  of  traitor  ;  but  I  wish, 
O  king,  to  miss  my  mark  in  acting  well, 
Rather  than  conquer,  acting  evilly. 

Odys.  O  son  of  noble  sire,  I,  too,  when  young, 
Had  a  slow  tongue  and  ready-working  hand ; 
But  now,  by  long  experience,  I  have  found 
Not  deeds,  but  words  prevail  at  last  with  men. 

Neop.  But  what  is  all  thou  bidd'st  me  say  but  lies  ?       1W 

OJys.  I  bid  thee  Philoctetes  take  with  guile. 

Neop.  And  why  by  guile,  when  suasion  might  succeed  > 

OJys.  He  will  not  hearken,  and  by  force  thou  can'st  not. 

Neop.  Has  he  so  dread  a  strength  whereto  he  trusts  ? 

Odys.  His  darts  unerring,  bringing  swiftest  death. 

Neop.  Is  it  not  safe,  then,  e'en  to  speak  with  him  ? 

Odys.  Not  so,  unless,  as  I  repeat,  in  guile. 

Neop.  Dost  thou  not  count  it  base  to  utter  lies  ? 

Octys.  Not  so,  when  falsehood  brings  deliverance. 

Neop.  But  with  what  face  can  one  such    falsehoods 
•peak  I  ll° 

no 


PHILOCTETES 

Odys.  When  acts  bring  gain,  it  is  not  well  to  shrink. 

Neop.  What  gain  for  me  that  he  should  come  to  Troi'a  ? 

Odys.  This  bow  and  this  alone  shall  Tro'ia  take. 

Neop.  Am  I  not  destined,  as  thou  said'st,  to  take  it  ? 

Odys.  Nor  thou  from  these,  nor  these  from  thee  apart. 

Neop.   If  so  it  stands,  then  we  must  hunt  for  them. 

Odys.   So  doing  thou  shalt  gain  two  gifts  of  price. 

Neop.  What  are  they  I     Learning  them  I  shall  not 
shrink. 

Odys.  Thou  shalt  be  known  at  once  as  wise  and  good. 

Neop.  Come,  then,  I'll  do  it,  casting  off  all  shame.  m 

Odys.  Rememb'rest  thou  the  counsel  that  I  gave  ? 

Neop.  Be  sure  of  that,  when  I  have  once  agreed. 

Odys.  Do  thou,  then,  here  abiding,  wait  for  him, 
And  I  will  go,  lest  I  be  seen  with  thee, 
And  send  our  scout  to  yon  ship  back  again. 
And  if  ye  seem  to  me  to  linger  long, 
The  self-same  man  will  I  send  back,  in  guise 
Of  seaman's  dress,  his  form  disguising  so 
That  he  may  come  unknown  ;  and  thou,  my  son, 
When  he  speaks  craftily,  do  thou  receive 
The  things  shat  profit  in  each  word  he  drops : 
Now  to  the  ship  I  go,  and  trust  to  thee  ; 
And  Hermes,  God  of  Guile,  who  sends  us  on, 
And  Victory,  e'en  Athena  Polias,1 
Who  saves  me  ever,  lead  us  on  to  win.  [Exit 

Chorus  advances* 

STROPHE  I 

Char.  What,  what  is  meet,  my  prince, 
For  me,  a  stranger  in  a  land  that's  strange, 

To  utter  or  conceal, 
With  one  so  prone  to  look  suspiciously  ? 

1  The  form  of  the  invocation  connected  itself  with  the  sanctuaries 
of  Athens.    Besides  the  temple  built  to  her  as  Athena  Polias,  there 
was  a  statue  of  her  in  the  Acropolis  in  the  character  of  Victory. 
in 


PHILOCTETES 

Tell  me,  I  pray  ;  his  art 
All  other  art  and  counsel  still  excels, 

Whose  hands  the  sceptre  wield 
That  Zeus  assigns  from  heaven  to  them  that  rule  ;  IV 

And  thou,  my  son,  hast  gained 
This  glory  of  the  old  ancestral  past ; 

Tell  me,  then,  tell,  I  pray, 
What  service  'tis  our  work  to  do  for  thee. 
Neop.  Now,  it  may  be,  thou  dost  wish 
To  see  the  place  where  he  lies 
Far  off.     Take  courage,  and  look  ; 
But  when  he  appears  who  went  forth, 
Wayfarer  dread  from  his  home, 
Then  come  thou  at  my  beck, 
And  strive  to  render  thy  help 
As  each  present  need  may  demand. 

ANTISTROPHR  I 

Chor.  Thou  tellest,  O  my  king,  1M 

Of  what  has  been  full  long  a  care  to  us, 

To  watch  that  eye  of  thine 
For  thine  especial  need  ;  but  tell,  I  pray, 

What  kind  of  home  is  his, 
And  in  what  spot  he  now  may  chance  to  be. 

'Tis  not  unmeet  to  know, 
Lest  he  should  fall  upon  me  unawares 

What  place,  what  seat  has  he, 
What  path,  or  near,  or  far,  does  he  now  tread  ? 
Neop.  Thou  see'st   this   dwelling  with   its   double 

door, 
Its  chamber  in  the  rock. 

Chor.  And  where  is  that  poor  sufferer  absent  now  I 
Neop.  To  me  it  is  plain  that  he  treads 
This  path  near,  hunting  for  food. 
For  this  is  the  fashion  of  life, 
So  rumour  runs,  that  he  leads, 


PHILOCTETES 

With  swift  darts  shooting  the  game, 
Wretched,  and  wretchedly  fed, 
And  that  here  none  wendeth  his  way, 
As  friend  and  healer  of  ills. 

STROPHE  II 

Chor.  I  pity  him,  for  one, 
Thinking  how  he,  with  none  to  care  for  him, 

Seeing  no  face  of  friend, 
Ever,  poor  wretch,  in  dreary  loneliness, 

Suffers  from  sore  disease, 
And  wanders  on  in  sore  perplexity 

At  every  urgent  need. 
Oh,  how,  yea,  how  can  he  his  sorrows  bear  ? 

*O  handiwork  of  Gods  ! 

0  wretched  men,  who  miss  their  life's  true  mean  ! 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

He,  born  of  ancient  house, 
And  falling  short  of  none  of  all  the  line, 

Now  stript  of  all  the  things 
That  make  up  life,  lies  here,  apart  from  all, 

With  dappled  deer,  or  beasts 
With  shaggy  manes,  still  dwelling  in  his  pain, 

In  hunger  fierce,  with  grief 
That  none  can  heal  ;  and  Echo  far  and  wide, 

With  ever-babbling  cry, 
Repeats  his  wail  of  bitter,  loud  lament.  1-0 

Neop.  \  wonder  at  none  of  these  things  ; 
If  I  err  not,  they  come  from  a  God, 
From  Chryse,  ruthless  of  soul,1 
And  now  the  woes  that  he  bears, 
With  none  to  care  for  him  near, 
From  some  God  needs  must  they  come, 

1  In  one  form  of  the  legend,  Chryse  was  enamoured  of  Philoctetes, 
and,  failing  to  gain  his  love,  cursed  him,  and  caused  the  serpent  to 
avenge  her. 


PHILOCTETES 

That  he  may  not  Troi'a  destroy 
With  darts  of  Gods  none  can  resist, 
Ere  the  time  run  on  to  its  close, 
When,  as  they  say,  it  is  doomed 

To  be  by  those  weapons  subdued.  *°° 

Ckor.  Hush,  hush,  O  boy ! 
Neop.  What  is  this  I 

Chor.  The  sounds  of  step  we  heard, 
As  of  some  man  who  drags  his  weary  way, 

Or  here  or  there  around  ; 
There  falls,  ah  yes,  there  falls  upon  my  ears 

Clear  sound  of  one  who  creeps, 
Slow  and  reluctant,  on  the  well-worn  track. 

It  is  not  hid  from  me 
That  bitter  cry  that  cometh  from  afar, 

Wearing  man's  strength  away  ; 
For  very  clearly  comes  his  wailing  cry, 

But  now,  O  boy,  'tis  time 

Neop.  For  what  ? 

Chor.  For  thoughts  and  counsels  new, 

For  lo  !  the  man  is  not  far  off,  but  near  ; 

No  note  of  reed-pipe  his, 
As  shepherd  roaming  idly  through  the  fields, 

But  stumbling,  for  sheer  pain, 
He  utters  a  lament  that  travels  far, 

Or  seeing  this  our  ship 
Lying  anchored  in  the  bay  inhospitable; 
For  sharp  and  dread  his  cry. 

Enter  PHILOCTETES   in  worn  and  tattered  raiment. 
Phil.  Ho,  there,  my  friends  ! 
Who  are  ye  that  have  come  to  this  our  shore, 
And  by  what  chance  ?  for  neither  is  it  safe 
To  anchor  in,  nor  yet  inhabited. 
What  may  I  guess  your  country  and  your  race  ? 
Your  outward  guise  and  dress  of  Hellas  speak, 
"4 


PHILOCTETES 

To  me  most  dear,  and  yet  I  fain  would  hear 

Your  speech  ;  and  draw  not  back  from  me  in  dread, 

As  fearing  this  my  wild  and  savage  look, 

But  pity  one  unhappy,  left  alone, 

Thus  helpless,  friendless,  worn  with  many  ills. 

Speak,  if  it  be  ye  come  to  me  as  friends : 

Nay,  answer  me,  it  is  not  meet  that  I 

Should  fail  of  this  from  you,  nor  ye  from  me. 

Neop.  Know  this  then  first,  O  stranger,  that  we  come, 
Of  Hellas  all ;  for  this  thou  seek'st  to  know. 

Phil.  O  dear-loved  sound  !     Ah  me  !  what  joy  it  is 
After  long  years  to  hear  a  voice  like  thine  ! 
What  led  thee  hither,  what  need  brought  thee  here  ? 
Whither  thy  royage,  what  blest  wind  bore  thee  on  ? 
Tell  all,  that  I  may  know  thee  who  thou  art. 

Neop.   By  birth  I  came  from  sea-girt  Skyros'  isle, 
And  I  sail  homeward,  I,  Achilles'  son, 
Named  Neoptolemos.     Now  know'st  thou  all. 

Phil.  O  son  of  dearest  father,  much-loved  land, 
Thou  darling  boy  of  Lycomedes  old, 
Whence  sailing,  whither  bound,  hast  thou  steered  hither? 

Neop.  At  present  I  from  Ilion  make  my  voyage. 

Phil.  What  say'st  thou  ?     Thou  was  surely  not  with 

us 
A  sailor  when  the  fleet  to  Ilion  came  ? 

Neop,  What  ?    Dids't  thou,  too,  share  that  great  enter- 
prise ? 

"Phil.  And  know'st  thou  not,  O  boy,  whom  thou  dost 
see? 

Neop.  How  can  I  know  a  man  I  ne'er  beheld  ?          Kt 

Phil.  And  did'st  thou  never  hear  my  name,  nor  fame 
Of  these  my  ills,  in  which  I  pined  away  ? 

Neop.  Know  that  I  nothing  know  of  what  thou  ask'st. 

Thil.  O  crushed  with  many  woes,  and  of  the  Gods 
Hated  am  I,  of  whom,  in  this  my  woe, 
No  rumour  travelled  homeward,  nor  went  forth 
"5 


PHILOCTETES 

Through  any  clime  of  Hellas!     But  the  men 

Who  cast  me  out  in  scorn  of  holiest  laws 

Laugh  in  their  sleeve,  and  this  my  sore  disease 

Still  grows  apace,  and  passes  into  worse. 

My  son,  O  boy  that  call'st  Achilles  sire,  1W 

Lo  !  I  am  he,  of  whom  perchance  thou  heard'st, 

That  I  possess  the  arms  of  Heracles, 

The  son  of  Pceas,  Philoctetes,  whom 

Our  generals  twain  and  Kephallene's  king1 

Basely  cast  forth  thus  desolate,  worn  out 

Through  fierce  disease,  with  bite  of  murderous  snake, 

Fierce  bite,  sore  smitten  ;  and  with  that,  O  boy, 

Thus  desolate  they  left  me,  when  they  touched 

From  sea-girt  Chryse  in  their  armament ; 

And  when  they  saw  me,  tired  and  tempest-worn, 

Asleep  in  vaulted  cave  upon  the  shore, 

Gladly  they  went,  and  left  me,  giving  me 

Some  wretched  rags  that  might  a  beggar  suit, 

And  some  small  store  of  food  they  chanced  to  have. 

And  thou,  my  son,  what  kind  of  waking-up 

Think'st  thou  I  had,  when  I  arose  from  sleep, 

And  found  them  gone— what  bitter  tears  I  wept. 

What  groans  of  woe  I  uttered  ?  when  I  saw 

The  ships  all  gone,  with  which  till  then  I  sailed, 

And  no  man  on  the  spot  to  give  me  aid, 

Nor  help  me  struggling  with  my  sore  disease ; 

And,  looking  all  around,  I  nothing  found 

But  pain  and  torment,  and  of  this,  my  son, 

Full  plenteous  store.     And  so  the  years  went  on, 

Month  after  month,  and  in  this  lowly  cell 

I  needs  must  wait  upon  myself.     My  bow 

Found  what  my  hunger  needed,  striking  down 

The  swift-winged  doves,  but  whatsoe'er  the  dart, 

1  Kephallene  is  named,  rather  than  Ithaca,  as  implying  a  greater 
scorn,  the  Kephallenians  being  of  ill  repute  both  as  traders  and  as 
pirates. 

116 


PHILOCTETES 

Sent  from  the  string,  might  hit,  to  that  poor  I 

Must  wend  my  way,  and  drag  my  wretched  foot, 

Even  to  that;  and  if  I  wanted  drink, 

Or,  when  the  frost  was  out  in  winter  time, 

Had  need  to  cleave  my  firewood,  this  poor  I 

Crept  out,  and  fetched.     And  then  no  fire  had  1, 

But  rubbing  stone  with  stone  I  brought  to  light, 

Not  without  toil,  the  spark  deep  hid  within  ; 

And  this  e'en  now  preserves  me ;  for  a  cell 

To  dwell  in,  if  one  has  but  fire,  provides 

All  that  I  need,  except  release  from  pain. 

And  now,  my  son, learn  thou  this  island's  tale: 

No  sailor  here  approaches  willingly, 

For  neither  is  there  harbour,  nor  a  town, 

Where  sailing  he  may  profit  gain,  or  lodge. 

No  men  of  prudence  make  their  voyage  here  ; 

Yet  some,  perchance,  may  come  against  their  will ; 

(Such  things  will  happen  in  the  lapse  of  years  ;) 

And  these,  my  son,  when  they  do  come,  in  words 

Show  pity  on  me,  and  perchance  they  give 

Some  food  in  their  compassion,  and  some  clothes ; 

But  none  is  willing,  when  I  mention  that, 

To  take  me  safely  home,  but  here  poor  I 

Wear  out  my  life,  for  nine  long  years  and  more, 

In  hunger  and  distress  this  eating  sore 

Still  nursing.     Such  the  deeds  th'  Atreidae  did, 

And  great  Odysseus.     May  the  Olympian  Gods 

Give  them  to  bear  like  recompense  for  this  ! 

Chor.  I  seem,  O  Pceas'  son,  to  pity  thce 
As  much  as  any  stranger  that  has  come. 

Neof.  And  I  myself  am  witness  to  thy  words, 
And  know  that  they  are  true,  for  I  have  found 
The  Atreidae  and  the  great  Odysseus  base. 

Phil.  What !     Hast  thou  too  a  grudge  against  those 

vile  ones, 

The  Atreidae,  that  thy  wrongs  have  stirred  thy  rage  \ 
"7 


PHILOCTETES 

Neop.  Would  it  were  mine  some  day  to  glut  my  rage  ! 
That  Sparta  and  Mykenae  both  might  know, 
That  Skyros,  too,  is  mother  of  brave  men. 

Phil.  Well    said,    O    boy  1      And   what    offence    has 

caused 
This  mighty  wrath  with  which  thou  comest  here  : 

Neop.   I'll  tell  thee,  Pceas'  son,  though  scarce  I  can,  &v> 
What  I  endured  of  outrage  at  their  hands  ; 
For  when  the  Fates  decreed  Achilles'  death,  .... 

Phil.  Ah  me  !     Speak  nothing  further  till  I  learn 
This  first  ;  and  is  the  son  of  Peleus  dead  ? 

Neop.  Dead  is  he,  not  by  any  man  shot  down, 
But  by  a  God, — by  Phcebos,  as  they  say.1 

Phil.  Well,  noble  He  that  slew,  and  he  that  fell ; 
And  I,  my  son,  am  much  in  doubt,  if  first 
To  ask  thy  sufferings,  or  to  mourn  for  him. 

Neop.  Thine  own  misfortunes  are  enough,  I  trow ; 
Thou  need'st  not  sorrow  o'er  thy  neighbour's  lot. 

Phil.  Thou  sayest  well,  and  therefore  tell  again 
That  business  in  the  which  they  outraged  thee. 

Neop.  There  came  for  me  in  ship  ail  gaily  decked, 
High-born  Odysseus,  and  my  father's  friend,1 
Who  reared  his  youth,  and  said,  or  true  or  false, 
That  since  my  father's  death  none  else  but  me 
Might  take  the  Towers.     And  so  with  words  like  these, 
O  stranger,  no  long  time  they  kept  me  there 
From  sailing  quickly;  chiefly  in  my  love, 
My  longing  love  for  him  who  lay  there  dead, 
That  I  might  see  him  yet  unsepulchred, 
For  never  had  I  known  him.     Next  to  this, 
Promise  full  fair  there  was  that  I  should  go, 
And  take  the  Towers  that  over  Troia  hang. 

*  "  As  they  say  ; "  for  the  arrow,  though  guided  by  Apollo,  wai 
shot  by  Paris. 

a  Phoenix,  who,  as  the  legend  ran,  went  with  Odysseus  to  Skyros 
to  fetch  the  son  ol  Achilles. 

ul 


PHILOCTETES 

And  as  I  sailed  our  second  morning's  voyage, 

With  prospering  oar  Sigeion's  shore  I  reached, 

Full  bitter  to  me  ;  and  forthwith  the  host, 

All  standing  round,  with  one  voice  greeted  me, 

E'en  as  I  landed,  swearing  that  they  saw 

Achilles  who  was  gone,  alive  again  ; 

He  then  lay  there,  and  I,  poor  hapless  boy, 

Wept  over  him,  and  not  long  after  went 

To  those  Atreidae  as  my  friends,  (for  so 

'Twas  meet  to  think  them,)  and  of  them  I  asked 

My  father's  arms,  and  all  things  else  of  his. 

And  they  spake  out,  ah  me  !  a  shameless  speech: 

"  O  offspring  of  Achilles,  all  the  rest 

That  was  thy  father's  it  is  thine  to  choose ; 

But  of  those  arms  another  now  is  lord, 

Laertes'  son."     And  1  with  many  a  tear 

Rise  up  in  hot  displeasure,  and  I  say, 

In  my  fierce  wrath,  "  O  wretch  !  and  have  ye  dared 

To  give  my  arms,  before  ye  learnt  my  mind, 

To  any  but  to  me  ? "     And  then  there  spake 

Odysseu^,  for  he  chanced  to  stand  hard  by, 

"  Yea,  boy ;  most  justly  have  they  given  them  me, 

For  I,  being  with  him,  saved  both  him  and  them." 

And  I,  being  angry,  hurled  all  evil  words 

Straight  in  his  teeth,  and  nothing  left  unsaid, 

Should  he  deprive  me  of  those  arms  of  mine. 

And  he  at  this  point,  though  not  prone  to  wrath, 

Stung  to  the  quick,  thus  answered  what  he  heard  : 

"  Thou  wasi  not  where  we  were,  but  stood'st  aloof 

Where  thou  should'st  not  ;  and  since  thou  speak'st  to 

us, 

So  bold  of  tongue,  with  these  thou  ne'er  shall  sail        *° 
To  Skyros  back."     And  hearing  words  like  these, 
And  foul  reproaches,  now  I  homeward  sail, 
Out  of  mine  own  rights  cheated  by  a  man 
Base-born,  Odysseus,  basest  of  the  base. 
"9 


PHILOCTETES 

And  yet  I  blame  not  him  so  much  as  those 
Who  reign  supreme ;  for  all  a  city  hangs, 
And  all  an  army,  on  the  men  that  rule ; 
And  they  who  wax  unruly  in  their  deeds 
Come  to  be  base  through  mood  of  those  that  guide. 
Now  my  whole  tale  is  told,  and  he  who  hates 
The  Atreidae,  may  he  be  my  friend  and  God's  ! 
Chor.  O  Goddess  Earth,  that  reignest  on  the  hills,1 
Giver  of  food  to  all ; 
Mother  of  Zeus  himself, 
Who  dwellest  where  the  full  Pactolos  rolls1 

Its  streams  o'er  golden  sands ; 
There  also,  dreaded  Mother,  I  invoked  thee, 
When  all  the  scorn  of  the  Atreidae  fell 

On  him  who  standeth  here, 
When  they  his  father's  weapons  gave  away 
(O  Holy  One,  who  sittest  on  thy  car,  *°* 

On  lions  fierce  that  slay  the  mighty  bulls !) 
To  Lartios'  son  a  glory  and  a  prize. 
Phil.  'Twould  seem  that  you  have  hither  sailed,  my 

friends, 

With  sorrow's  friendship-token,  and  with  mine 
Your  voice  accords,  so  that  I  see  these  deeds 
Are  by  the  Atreidae  and  Odysseus  done : 
For  well  I  know  that  he  with  that  glib  tongue 
Leaves  no  base  speech  or  subtlety  untouched, 
From  which  nought  right  shall  in  the  issue  spring. 
At  this  I  marvel  not,  but  much  to  think 
The  elder  Aias  should  have  seen  and  borne  it 

Nfop.   He  was  not  living,  friend.     Had  he  but  lived, 
I  had  not  then  been  plundered  of  these  things. 

1  The  Goddess,  Earth  (Ge)  is  here,  as  in  the  later  form  of  Greek 
mythol'  gy,  identified  (i)  with  Cretan  Rhea,  the  mother  of  Zeus, 
and  (2)  with  the  Phrygian  Kybele.  riding  on  her  lions,  the  Goddess 
of  the  land  where  the  Atreidte  had  done  their  wrong. 

«  The  Pactolos  flowed  from  Mount  Tniolos,  the  head  quarters  of 
the  worship  of  Kybele. 

120 


PHILOCTETES 

Phil.  What  say'st  thou  ?     Is  he  also  dead  and  gone  ? 

Neap.  Think  thou  of  him  as  seeing  light  no  more. 

Phil.  Ah,  wretched  me  !     That  son  to  Tydeus  born, 
That  child  of  Sisyphos  that  Lartios  bought,1 
They  will  not  die  ; — for  they  ought  not  to  live. 

Neop.  Not  dead  are  they,  be  sure  :  but,  lo  !  they  live, 
And  now  are  mighty  in  the  Argives'  host. 

Phil.  And  what  of  that  old  worthy,  my  good  friend, 
Nestor  of  Pylos  ;  for  he  still  was  wont 
With  his  wise  counsels  to  restrain  their  ill. 

Neop.  He,  too,  fares  badly,  since  Antilockos, 
His  dear-loved  son,  has  left  him  and  is  dead. 

Phil.  Ah,  me !     These  two  that  thou  hast  told  me  of, 
Were  those  whose  deaths  I  least  had  wished  to  hear. 
Fie  on  it  !  fie  !     and  whither  can  one  look, 
When  these  men  die  and  here  Odysseus  lives, 
Who  ought  in  their  stead  to  be  named  a  corpse  ?          43° 

Neop.  A  crafty  foe  is  he,  yet  craftiest  schemes, 
O  Philoctetes,  oft  a  hindrance  find. 

Phil.  Now  tell  me,  by  the  Gods,  and  where  is  he, 
Patroclos,  whom  thy  father  loved  so  well  ? 

Neop.  He  too  is  dead,  and  I,  in  one  short  speech, 
Will  tell  thee  this,  that  war  ne'er  wills  to  take 
One  scoundrel  soul,  but  evermore  the  good. 

Phil.  I  bear  thee  witness,  and  for  that  same  reason 
I'll  ask  thee  now  of  one  of  little  worth, 
But  open-mouthed  and  crafty,  how  he  fares.  44° 

Neop.  And  who  is  this   thou  speak'st   of  but   Odys- 
seus ? 

Phil.  I  mean  not  him,  but  one,  Thersites  named, 
Who  never  was  content  to  speak  but  once, 
When  no  man  asked  him, — know'st  thou  if  he  lives? 

Neop.  I  saw  him  not,  but  heard  that  still  he  lived. 

Phil.  Well  may  he  live,  for  nothing  bad  will  die, 

1  See  note  on  Aias,  188. 


PHILOCTETES 

So  well  the  Gods  do  fence  it  round  about ; 

And  still  they  joy  to  turn  from  Hades  back 

The  cunning  and  the  crafty,  while  they  send 

The  just  and  good  below.     What  thoughts  can  I          *** 

Of  such  things  form,  how  offer  praise,  when  still, 

Praising  the  Gods,  I  find  the  Gods  are  base  ? 

Neop.  I,  O  thou  son  of  sire  whom  (Eta  knows, 
I,  for  the  future,  with  a  far-off  glance 
At  Ilion  and  the  Atreidae,  stand  on  guard  ; 
And  where  the  worse  o'erpowers  the  better  man, 
And  good  things  perish,  and  the  coward  wins, 
These  men,  and  such  as  these,  I  ne'er  will  love  ; 
But  rocky  Skyros  shall  in  times  to  come1 
Suffice  for  me  to  take  mine  ease  at  home. 
Now  to  my  ship  I  go.     And  thou,  O  son 
Of  Pceas,  fare  thee  well,  good  luck  be  thinr, 
And  may  the  Gods  release  thee  from  thy  pain, 
As  thou  desirest  !     Now  then  let  us  start  ; 
When  God  fair  weather  gives  us,  then  we  sail. 

Phil.  And  do  ye  start  already  ? 

Neop.  Yes  ;  the  time 

Bids  us  our  voyage  think  near,  and  not  far  off. 

Phil.  By  thy  dear  sire  and  mother,  I,  my  son, 
Implore  thee  as  a  suppliant,  by  all  else 
To  these  most  dear,  thus  lonely  leave  me  not,  47° 

Abandoned  to  these  evils  which  thou  see'st, 
With  which  thou  hearest  that  I  still  abide  ; 
But  think  of  me  as  thrown  on  you  by  chance  : 
Right  well  I  know  how  noisome  such  a  freight ; 
Yet  still  do  thou  endure  it.     Noble  souls 
Still  find  the  base  is  hateful,  and  the  good 
Is  full  of  glory.     And  for  thee,  my  son, 
Leaving  me  here  comes  shame  that  is  not  good  ; 

1  The  proverbial  poverty  and  insignificance  of  the  island  gave 
the  resolve  of  Neoptolemos  a  special  emphasis.  "Even  Skyros, 
poor  as  it  is." 

:az 


PHILOCTETES 

But  doing  what  I  ask  thee  thou  shalt  have 

Thy  meed  of  greatest  honour,  should  I  reach 

Alive  and  well  the  shores  of  (Eta's  land. 

Come,  come !     The  trouble  lasts  not  one  whole  day  :     uo 

Take  heart ;  receive  me  ;  put  me  where  thou  wilt, 

In  hold,  or  stern,  or  stem,  where  least  of  all 

1  should  molest  my  fellow-passengers. 

Ah,  by  great  Zeus,  the  suppliant's  God,  consent ; 

I  pray  thee,  hearken.     On  my  knees  I  beg, 

Lame  though  I  be  and  powerless  in  my  limbs. 

Nay,  leave  me  not  thus  desolate,  away 

From  every  human  footstep.     Bring  me  safe, 

Or  to  my  home,  or  where  Chalk odon  holds1 

His  seat  in  fair  Eubcea  :  thence  the  sail 

To  (Eta  and  the  ridge  of  Trachis  steep, 

And  fair  Spercheios  is  not  far  from  me, 

That  thou  may'st  shew  me  to  my  father  dear, 

Of  whom  long  since  I've  feared  that  he  perchance 

Has  passed  away.     For  many  messages 

I  sent  to  him  by  those  who  hither  came, 

Yea,  suppliant  prayers  that  he  would  hither  send, 

Himself  to  fetch  me  home.     But  either  he 

Is  dead,  or  else,  as  happens  oft  with  men 

Who  errands  take,  they  holding  me,  'twould  seem, 

In  slight  account,  pushed  on  their  homeward  voyage. 

But  now,  for  here  I  come  to  thee  as  one 

At  once  my  escort  and  my  messenger, 

Be  thou  my  helper,  my  deliverer  thou, 

Seeing  all  things  full  of  fear  and  perilous  chance, 

Or  to  fare  well,  or  fall  in  evil  case; 

And  one  that's  free  from  sorrow  should  look  out 

For  coming  dangers,  and,  when  most  at  ease, 

1  Chalkodon,  son  of  Abas,  had  been  the  ally  of  Heracles  :  so 
Philoctetes  might  therefore  naturally  look  for  a  welcome  from  him. 
In  Athenian  legends,  Elephenor,  the  son  of  Chalkodon,  was  the 
friend  of  Theseus. 


PHILOCTETES 

Should  then  keep  wariest  watch  upon  his  life, 
Lest  unawares  he  perish  utterly. 

Chor.  Have  pity,  O  my  prince,  for  he  hath  told 
Of  sorrows  which,  I  pray 
No  friend  of  mine  may  know. 
But  if,  O  prince,  the  Atreidas,  rough  and  fierce,  61° 

Thou  hatest  in  thy  soul, 
I,  reckoning  on  the  profit-side  for  him 
The  evil  they  have  done,  would  take  him  home, 

And  on  my  good  ship  swift 
Make  for  the  haven  which  his  heart  desires, 
Escaping  thus  the  righteous  wrath  of  Gods. 

Neop.  Take  heed  lest  thou  be  very  pliant  now, 
But  when  thou  hast  thy  fill  of  that  foul  pest, 
Should'st  show  no  more  at  one  with  these  thy  words. 

Chor.  Far  be  that  from  me  !  Thou  shalt  ne'er  have  cause 
With  that  reproach  to  vilify  my  name. 

Neop.  Right  shameful  were  it  I  more  loth  should  seem 
Than  thou  to  help  a  stranger  in  his  need  : 
But,  if  it  please  you,  let  us  sail  at  once. 
And  let  him  too  be  quick  to  start  with  us  ; 
Our  ship  will  take  him,  will  not  say  him  nay. 
This  only  pray  I,  that  the  Gods  may  bring  us 
From  this  land  safe  to  where  we  seek  to  sail. 

Phil.  O  day  best  loved  by  me,  and  man  most  dear,  8SO 
And  ye,  my  sailor  friends,  how  best  may  I 
Show  in  my  acts  the  grateful  love  I  feel  ? 
Come,  let  us  go,  my  son,  and  bid  farewell 
To  that  my  homeless  home,  that  thou  may'st  learn 
What  way  I  lived,  and  how  I  was  by  nature 
Full  stout  of  heart.     Another  man,  I  trow, 
Would  hardly  even  bear  with  glance  of  eye, 
To  look  on  such  a  sight.      But  1  have  learnt, 
Through  sheer  constraint,  to  acquiesce  in  ills. 

Chor.  \To  NEOPTOLEMOS.]  Stop  ;  let  us  learn.     Two 
men  draw  near,  the  one 
"4 


PHILOCTETES 

A  sailor  from  thy  ship,  the  other  seems  M0 

A  stranger.     Ask  of  them,  and  then  go  in. 

Enter  Attendant,  disguised  as  a  trader,  and  a  Sailor. 

Attend.  Son  of  Achilles,  this  my  shipmate  here, 
Who  with  two  others  o'er  the  ship  kept  watch, 
I  bade  to  tell  where  thou  might'st  chance  to  be  ; 
For  so  I  met  him,  not  intending  it, 
But  to  the  self-same  harbour  brought  by  chance. 
For  I,  as  owner  of  my  little  boat, 
Was  sailing  home  from  Ilion  to  the  shores 
Of  Peparethos,  where  the  grapes  grow  fair  ;J 
And  when  I  heard  that  all  those  sailors  there 
Had  sailed  with  thee,  I  deemed  it  well  to  wait 
Silent  no  longer,  but  to  tell  thee  all, 
And  then  to  sail  with  what  my  news  deserves  : 
For  thou  know'st  naught  of  what  concerns  thee  much, 
The  new  plans  which  the  Argives  form  for  thee  ; 
Nor  are  they  plans  alone,  but  of  a  truth 
Are  being  done,  no  longer  tarrying. 

Neop.  I  owe  thee  thanks  for  this  thy  forethought,  friend, 
And  if  I  be  not  base  those  thanks  will  last. 
But  tell  me  what  thou  mean'st,  that  I  may  know 
What  new  device  thou  from  the  Argives  bring'st.         M0 

Attend.  They  with  good  show  of  ships  pursue  thee  now, 
The  aged  Phoenix  and  great  Theseus'  sons. 

Neop.  By  force  to  bring  me  back,  or  by  their  words  ? 

Attend.  I  know  not ;  what  I  heard,  I  come  to  tell. 

Neop.  And  can  it  be  that  Phcenix  and  his  mates 
Make  such  good  speed  for  those  Atreidae's  sake  ? 

Attend.  Know  that  this  is  being  done  and  lingers  not. 

Neop.  How  was  it  then  Odysseus  did  not  come, 

1  Peparethos,  almost  as  famous  as  Chios  for  its  wine,  would 
naturally  be  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  supply  for  the  Hellenes  who 
were  besieging  Tro'ia.  In  the  time  of  Demosthenes,  its  produce 
was  exported  as  far  as  Pontus. 

"5 


PHILOCTETES 

A  volunteer,  self-summoned  ?     Did  he  fear  ? 

Attend.  He  and  the  son  of  Tydeus  went  their  way  sn 
To  seek  another,  when  I  started  forth. 

Neop.  And  who  was  this  for  whom  Odysseus  sailed  ? 

Attend.  There  was  a  man, ....  but  tell  me  first  who  this 
I  see  may  be,  and  what  thou  say'st,  speak  low. 

Neop.  This,  friend,  is  Philoctetes,  known  to  fame. 

Attend.  Ask  me  no  more,  but  with  thine  utmost  speed 
Hasten  thy  way,  and  from  this  island  sail. 

Phil.  What  saith  he,  boy,  and  why  with  darkling  words 
Does  he,  that  sailor,  traffic  in  my  life? 

Neop.  I  know  not  what  he  says,  but  all  he  speaks      *** 
He  must  speak  out  to  thee,  and  me,  and  these. 

Attend.  O  son  of  great  Achilles,  charge  me  not 
Before  the  host  with  saying  things  I  ought  not; 
For  I,  doing  them  good  service,  (far  at  least 
As  poor  man  can),  get  good  return  for  it. 

Neop.  I  am  the  Atreidae's  foe,  and  this  man  here 
Is  my  best  friend,  because  he  hates  them  too ; 
And  thou,  who  comest  as  a  friend  to  me, 
Should'st  not  hide  from  us  aught  of  what  thou  heard'st. 

Attend.  Take  heed,  O  boy. 

Neop.  Long  since  I'm  on  the  watch. 

Attend.  I'll  hold  thee  guilty. 

Neop.  Hold,  but  tell  thy  tale.  ** 

Attend.  That  will  I  tell.      It  is  to  bring  this  man 
Those  twain,  whose  names  thou  knowest,  Tydeus'  son 
And  great  Odysseus,  sail,  by  oath  fast  bound 
That  they  will  either  bring  him  back,  with  words 
Persuading  him,  or  else  with  force  and  arms; 
And  all  the  Achaeans  heard  Odysseus  speak 
This  clearly  out.     More  confident  was  he 
That  he  should  do  it  than  the  other  was. 

Neop.  And  for  what  cause,  so  long  a  time  elapsed, 
Did  those  Atreida:  turn  to  seek  this  man 
Whom  for  so  long  they  had  in  exile  left  ? 
126 


PHILOCTETES 

Whence  came  this  yearning?     Can  it  be  the  power 
And  vengeance  of  the  Gods  who  wrong  requite  ? 

Attend.  All  this,  for  thou  perchance  hast  heard  it  not, 
I  now  will  tell.     A  certain  noble  seer, 
A  son  of  Priam,  Helenos  his  name, 
There  was,  whom  this  man,  going  forth  alone 
By  night  (I  mean  Odysseus,  full  of  craft, 
On  whom  all  words  of  shame  and  baseness  fall) 
As  prisoner  took,  and  where  the  Achaeans  meet 
As  goodly  spoil  displayed  him.     And  he  then, 
Both  all  the  rest  to  them  did  prophesy, 
And  that  they  should  not  take  the  Towers  that  hang 
O'er  Troi'a,  till,  with  words  persuading  him, 
They  fetched  the  man  who  in  this  island  dwells. 
And  when  Laertes'  offspring  heard  the  seer 
Say  this,  he  straightway  promised  he  would  bring 
This  man,  and  to  the  Achaeans  show  him  there, 
And  that  he  thought  to  do  it  with  his  will, 
But,  will  or  nill,  to  bring  him  ;  and  he  gave 
Full  leave  to  any  man  to  take  his  head 
If  he  should  fail.     And  now,  boy,  thou  hast  heard 
All  that  I  know,  and  I  must  counsel  speed 
For  thee  and  him,  and  any  man  thou  lov'st. 

Phil.  Ah,  woe  is  me  !     Did  he,  that  utter  mischief, 
Swear  to  persuade  me,  and  to  bring  me  back 
To  those  Achaeans  f     Just  as  soon  would  I 
Be  moved,  when  dead,  from  Hades  to  return 
To  light  of  day,  as  that  man's  father  did.1 

Attend.  Of  this  I  know  not.     To  my  ship  I  go, 
And  now  God  send  you  all  his  choicest  gifts.  [Exit 

Phil.  And  is  it  not,  boy,  dreadful  that  this  man, 
The  son  of  Lartios,  should  expect  to  bring  me 

1  Sisyphos,  who  is  spoken  of  as  the  real  father  of  Odysseus,  had, 
it  was  said,  begged  Persephone  to  allow  him  to  return  to  the  world 
of  the  living  that  he  might  punish  his  wife,  Merope,  for  leaving  him 
unburied,  and  then  refused  to  go  back  again  to  Hades. 

127 


PHILOCTETES 

With  glozing  words,  and  show  me  from  his  ship 

To  all  the  crowd  of  Argives  ?     Nay,  not  so : 

For  rather  would  I  listen  to  the  voice 

Of  that  dread  viper  which  my  soul  most  hates, 

That  made  me  thus  disabled.     But  his  soul 

Will  say  all,  dare  all,  and  I  know  full  well 

That  he  will  come.     But  now,  boy,  let  us  go, 

That  a  wide  sea  may  part  us  from  the  ship 

Odysseus  sails  in.     Oft  hath  timely  haste, 

When  toil  hath  ceased,  brought  slumber  and  repose. 

Neop.  Were  it  not  well,  when  this  head-wind  shall  cease, 
Then  to  sail  on,  for  now  'tis  in  our  teeth  ? 

Phil.  'Tis  all  fair  sailing  when  thou  flee'st  from  ill 

Neop.  *I  know  it,  but  the  wind  retards  them  too. 

Phil.  There  is  no  wind  retards  the  pirate's  work, 
When  time  is  come  for  theft  and  plundering. 

Neof.  Well,  if  it  please  thee,  let  us  go,  but  first 
Take  what  thou  needest  and  desirest  most. 

Phil.  Some  things  there  are  I  need,  though  small  the 
choice. 

Ntof.  What  is  there  which  thou  find'st  not  on  my  ship  ? 

Phil.  A  herb  there  is  with  which  I  mostly  lull 
My  wound's  sharp  pain,  and  make  it  bearable. 

AVo/.  Well,  bring  it  out.     What  else  desirest  thou  ? 

Phil.  If  from  my  quiver  aught  has  chanced  to  drop 
Through  my  neglect,  that  no  man  find  it  here. 

Nfoj>.  Is  this  that  thou  dost  bear  the  far-famed  bow? 

Phil.  This,  and  none  other  hold  I  in  my  hands. 

Nfof.  And  may  I  have  a  nearer  view  of  it, 
And  hold  it,  and  salute  it,  as  a  God  ? 

Phil.  Thou  shall  have  this,  my  son,  and  if  aught  else 
Of  mine  shall  please  thee,  that  too  shall  be  thine. 

Nfoj>.  I  wish  and  long,  and  yet  my  wish  stands  thus ; 
I  fain  would,  were  it  right  ;  if  not,  refuse.  [** 

Phil.  Thou  askest  but  thy  due,  and  it  is  right, 
My  son,  who  only  giv'st  me  to  behold 
128 


PHILOCTETES 

The  light  of  day,  and  yon  CEtaean  shore, 
My  aged  father,  and  my  friends, — whose  arm, 
When  I  was  trodden  down,  has  raised  me  up 
Above  my  foes.     Take  heart  :  it  shall  be  thine 
To  touch  them,  yea,  and  give  them  back  to  me, 
And  boast  that  thou,  alone  of  all  that  live, 
Hast,  for  thy  virtue's  sake,  laid  hands  on  them : 
For  I  too  gained  them  by  good  deeds  I  did. 

Neop.  I  grieve  not  now  to  see  thee  as  a  friend, 
And  take  thee  with  me,  for  a  man  that  knows, 
Receiving  good,  to  render  good  again, 
Would  be  a  friend  worth  more  than  land  or  goods ; 
Go  thou  within. 

Phil.  And  I  will  take  thee  too : 

My  ailment  makes  me  crave  to  have  thy  help. 

[Exeunt  into  the  cavern 
STROPHE  I 

Cbor.  I  know  the  tale,  though  these  eyes  saw  it  not, 
Of  him  who  came  too  near 
The  marriage-bed  of  Zeus, 

*How  him,  a  prisoner  bound  on  whirling  wheel, 
The  son  of  Kronos  smote,  omnipotent;1 
But  never  have  I  seen  or  heard  of  one 
Of  mortal  men  that  met 
A  gloomier  fate  than  his, 
Who  having  done  no  wrong  to  life  or  good\ 

But  just  among  the  just, 
Was  brought  thus  low,  in  doom  dishonourable 

And  wonder  holds  my  soul, 
How  he,  still  hearing  in  his  loneliness 
The  dashing  of  the  breakers  on  the  shore, 

1  Ixion's  guilt,  in  the  old  Greek  legends,  was,  first,  that  of 
treacherous  murder,  and  then,  whf-n  Zeus  had  compassion  upon  the 
madness  and  misery  that  followed,  the  crime  here  referred  to,  for 
which  Zeus  bound  him  for  ever  to  a  fiery,  never-resting  wheel  in 
Tartaros. 

0  129  i 


PHILOCTETES 

Endured  still  to  live 

A  life  all  lamentable  ;  •* 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
Where  he  alone  was  neighbour  to  himself, 

Powerless  to  move  a  limb, 

And  having  on  this  isle 
No  habitant,  companion  in  his  grief, 
With  whom  to  wail  his  sharp  and  bleeding  pain, 
In  echoing  burst  of  lamentation  loud, 

With  none  to  stanch  or  soothe 

(When  such  ill  came  on  him) 
The  scalding  blood  that  oozed  from  cankering  sore 

Of  that  envenomed  foot, 
With  healing  herbs,  or  fetch  them  from  the  earth 

That  giveth  food  to  all ;  *» 

But  ever  like  a  child  without  its  nurse, 
Now  here,  now  there,  he  dragged  his  writhing  limbs, 

Wending  his  way  for  ease, 

When  the  pain  respite  gave: 

STROPHE  II 
Never  from  out  the  lap  of  sacred  earth 

The  seed-corn  gathering, 
Nor  aught  that  we,  who  live  by  work,  enjoy, 

But  only  what  perchance 
He  gained,  the  pangs  of  hunger  to  appease, 

With  those  swift-winged  darts 

That  travelled  straight  and  far. 

O  soul  deep  plunged  in  woe, 
Who  never,  in  the  space  of  ten  long  years, 

Did  know  the  wine-cup's  joy, 
But  still  did  go,  where  eager  glance  might  guide, 

To  drink  of  standing  pool ; 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

But  now,  thou,  meeting  one  from  heroes  sprung, 
130 


PHILOCTETES 

Shalt  end  in  being  great, 
And  prosper  well  after  those  woes  of  thine  ; 

Who  now,  the  long  months  passed, 
Art  borne  in  ship  that  travels  o'er  the  waves 

To  that  thy  father's  home, 

Where  wander  Malia's  nymphs, 

And  by  Spercheios'  banks, 
Where  he  who  bore  the  brazen  shield,  though  man,1 

Draws  near,  a  God,  to  Gods, 
Bright  with  the  fire  that  flashes  from  the  sky, 

High  above  CEta's  slopes. 

Enter  PHILOCTETES  and  NEOPTOLEMosyrow  the 

cavern. 

Neop.  Come,  if  thou  wilt.     But  why,  without  a  cause, 
Stand'st  thou  so  silent  and  astonished  ?  [73° 

Phil.  [Groaning  heavily.}  Ah!  ah!  ah! 
Neop.  What  means  this  cry  ? 

Phil.  'Tis  nought,  my  son  ;  go  on. 

Neop.  Art  thou  in  pain  from  onset  of  disease? 
Phil.  Not  so,  not  so ;  I  think  'tis  easier  now. 
Ye  Gods  !  ye  Gods ! 

Neop.  Why  groan'st    thou   thus,  and   callest   on   the 

Gods  ? 
Phil.  That  they  may  come  with  power  to  soothe  and 

save. 
Ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  [Groaning  in  agony.] 

Neofa  What  ails  thee  ?     Wilt   thou   thus  thy  silence 

keep, 
And  wilt  not  tell  ?     'Tis  clear  some  ill  is  on  thee. 

Phil.  I  perish,  O  my  son,  and  cannot  hide 
The  evil  from  thee  ?     Oh,  it  darts,  it  darts. 
O  misery  !     O  miserable  me ! 

1  The  man  who  bore  the  brazen  shield  is,  of  course,  Heracles, 
the  friend  of  Philoctetes,  from  whom,  though  as  yet  neither  he  nor 
the  Chorus  dream  of  it,  his  deliverance  is  at  last  to  come. 
131 


PHILOCTETES 

I  perish,  O  my  son  ;  it  eats  me  up. 

[Gasps  with  suppressed  agony . 
Oh  !  by  the  Gods,  my  son,  if  thou  hast  there 
A  sword  at  hand,  smite  thou  this  foot  of  mine, 
And  lop  it  off  at  once.     Care  not  for  life: 
Come,  boy,  be  quick 

Neop.  And  what  new  sudden  grief    ' 

Is  this  for  which  thou  mak'st  this  wailing  and  lament? 

Phil.  Thou  know'st,  my  son. 

Neop.  What  is't  ? 

Phil.  Thou  knowest,  boy. 

Nfop.  What  is  it  ?     I  know  not. 

Phil.  How  can  it  be 

Thou  dost  not  know  it  well  ?     Ah  me  !     Ah  me  ! 

f  Gasping,  as  before. 
thy  disease. 

Phil.  Yea,  sore  beyond  all  words :  nay,  pity  me. 

Neop.  What  shall  I  do  then  ? 

Phil.  Do  not  in  thy  fear 

Desert  me,  for  it  now  is  come,  perchance, 
*After  long  time,  retreating  when  'tis  sated. 

Neop.  Ah  !  miserable  one,  most  miserable, 
All  worn  with  many  woes,  dost  thou  then  wish 
That  I  should'hold  thee,  touch  thee  ? 

Phil.  Nay,  not  so : 

But  take  my  bow  and  arrows,  which  but  now 
Thou  asked'st  for,  and  keep  them  till  the  force 
Of  the  sharp  pain  be  spent;  yea,  guard  them  well, 
For  slumber  takes  me,  when  this  evil  ends ; 
Nor  can  it  cease  before  :  but  thou  must  leave  me 
To  sleep  in  peace :  and  should  they  come  meanwhile, 
Of  whom  we  heard,  by  all  the  Gods  I  charge  thee, 
Nor  with  thy  will,  nor  yet  against  it,  give 
These  things  to  them,  by  any  art  entrapped, 
Lest  thou  should'st  deal  destruction  on  thyself, 
And  me  who  am  thy  suppliant. 


PHILOCTETES 

Neop.  Take  good  heart, 

If  forethought  can  avail.     To  none  but  thee 
And  me  shall  they  be  given.     Hand  them  me, 
And  good  luck  come  with  them ! 

Phil.  [Giving bis  bow  and  arrows  to  NEOPTOLEMOS.] 
Lo  there,  my  son  ! 

Receive  thou  them,  but  first  adore  the  Power 
Whose  name  is  Jealousy,  that  they  may  prove 
To  thee  less  full  of  trouble  than  they  were 
To  me,  and  him  who  owned  them  ere  I  owned. 

Neop.  So  be  it,  O  ye  Gods,  to  both  of  us ; 
And  may  we  have  a  fair  and  prosperous  voyage 
Where  God  thinks  right,  and  these  our  ships  are  bound. 

Phil.  I  fear,  O  boy,  lest  all  thy  prayers  be  vain ; 
For  now  the  dark  blood,  oozing  from  the  depths, 
Drops  once  again,  and  I  await  a  change. 

Ah  !  ah  !  ah  me  ! 

Fie  on  thee,  foot,  what  evil  wilt  thou  work  I 
It  creeps,  it  comes  again  on  me.     Ah  me  ! 
O  miserable  me  !     Ye  know  it  now  : 
Flee  ye  not  from  me — flee  ye  not,  I  pray ! 
O  Kephallenian  friend,  would  God  this  pain 
Might  fasten  on  thy  breast,  and  pierce  thee  through  ! 
Ah  me  !      Once  more,  ah  me !     Ye  generals  twain, — 
Thou,  Agamemnon,  Menelaos,  thou, — 
Would  God  ye  both  might  bear  this  fell  disease, 
As  long  a  time  as  I  !     Woe,  woe  is  me ! 
O  Death  !  O  Death  !   why  com'st  thou  not  to  me, 
Thus  summoned  day  by  day  continually  ? 
And  thou  my  son,  brave  boy,  come,  cast  me  in, 
Consume  me  in  this  Lemnian  fire,1  dear  boy, 
By  me  so  oft  invoked.     I  too  of  old, 

1  The  "Lemnian  fire"  is  that  of  the  volcano  Mosychlos,  which 
had  become  the  type-instance  of  burning  mountains  to  the  Athenians 
after  the  conquest  of  the  island  by  Miltiades.  In  what  follows, 
Philoctetes  refers  to  his  kindling  the  funeral  pyre  of  Heracles  on 
Mount  CEta. 

133 


PHILOCTETES 

For  these  his  arms  which  now  thou  cherishest, 

Thought  meet  to  do  this  for  the  son  of  Zeus. 

What  say'st   thou,  boy  ?  what  say'st  thou  ?     Why  not 

speak  ? 
Where  go  thy  thoughts  now  ? 

Neop.  Troubled  sore  long  since, 

Lamenting  thy  misfortunes. 

Phil.  Nay,  O  boy, 

Be  of  good  cheer.     It  comes  upon  me  sharply, 
And  quickly  goes  away.     Nay,  leave  me  not, 
I  pray  thee,  here  alone. 

Neop.  Fear  not ;  we'll  stay. 

Phil.  And  wilt  thou  stay  ? 

Neop.  Deem  that  beyond  all  doubt.  81* 

Phil.  I  do  not  care  to  bind  thee  by  an  oath. 

Neop.  I  may  not  go  from  hence  apart  from  thee. 

Phil.  Give  me  thy  hand  as  pledge. 

Neop.  I  give  it  thee 

As  pledge  of  our  remaining. 

Phil.  [Starting  in  agony.]  Take  me  there, 
There,  there,  I  say. 

Neop.  But  whither  meanest  thou  ? 

Phil.  Above.  .  .  . 

Neop.  [Laying  hold  on  PHILOCTETES.]  Why  ravest  thou, 

and  why  dost  gaze 
Upon  yon  vault  above  us? 

Phil.  Let  me  go, 

I  tell  thee  ;  let  me  go  ! 

Neop.  Where  shall  I  leave  thee  ? 

Phil.  Leave  me,  I  say,  a  while. 

Neop.  It  may  not  be. 

Phil.  If  thou    but    touch    me,   thou    wilt  work   my 
death. 

Neop.  {Releasing  him.]  And  I  will  let  thee  go,  if  thou, 

indeed, 
Art  calmer  now. 

'34 


PHILOCTETES 

Phil.  [Throwing  himself  on  the  ground^  O  Earth,  re- 
ceive me  here, 

Just  as  I  am,  half-dead.     This  sore  disease 
No  longer  lets  me  hold  myself  upright.  [Falls  asleep.   M0 
Neop.  Sleep,  so  'twould  seem,  would  make  the  man  its 

own 

In  no  long  time  ;  for,  lo  !  his  head  droops  back, 
And  drops  of  sweat  from  all  his  body  fall, 
And  the  dark  vein  from  out  his  instep  breaks, 
Bursting  with  blood.     But  let  us  leave  him  here 
In  peace,  that  he  may  fall  on  sleep  at  last. 

STROPHE 
Chor.  Come,  blowing  softly,  Sleep,  that  know'st  not 

pain, 

Sleep,  ignorant  of  grief, 
Come  softly,  surely,  kingly  Sleep,  and  bless  ; 

Keep  still  before  his  eyes 

*The  band  of  light  which  lies  upon  them  now. 
Come,  come,  thou  healing  one  : 
And  thou,  my  son,  take  heed 
How  thou  or  stand  or  stir, 
And  what  new  counsels  lie  before  us  now  ; 
Thou  see'st  him  :  wherefore,  then, 
Do  we  delay  to  act  ? 
Occasion  guiding  counsel,  in  all  things, 
If  used  at  once,  gains  prize  of  victory. 

Neop.  [In  an  altered  tone,  as  if  chanting  an  oracle.~\  He, 
indeed,  heareth  nought,  and  well  I  see  that 
all  vainly, 
Sailing  off  without  him,   we  gain    the  spoil  of  his 

weapons.  [M0 

His  are  the  glory  and  crown,  him  the  God  bade  us  bring 

with  us  ; 

And  sore  disgrace  will  it  be,  false  boasting  of  task-work 
unfinished. 

'35 


PHILOCTETES 

ANTISTROPHE 
Chor.  For  this,  my  son,  God's  will  shall  well  provide  ; 

But  what  thou  speak'st  again 
Speak  gently,  O  my  son,  speak  gently  now 

With  'bated  breath,  speak  low. 
To  all  whom  pain  and  sickness  make  their  own, 

Sleep  is  but  sleepless  still, 

And  quick  to  glance  and  see. 

But  now,  with  all  thy  power, 
Look  thou  to  that,  to  that,  all  secretly, 

See  how  thou  best  may'st  work. 

Thou  know'st  well  whom  I  serve  ; 
And  if  thy  measures  be  the  same  as  his, 
*Then  men  of  judgment  look  for  troubles  sore. 

EPODE 

The  time  is  come,  my  son,  the  time  is  come 

All  sightless,  void  of  help, 

The  man  in  darkness  lies, 

(Right  sound  is  sleep  beneath  the  burning  sun,) 
And  stirs  nor  hand,  nor  foot,  nor  any  limb, 
But  seems  like  one  in  Hades  stretched  full  length. 
Look  to  it  well,  and  think  if  thou  dost  speak 

The  things  that  suit  the  time. 

Far  as  my  mind  can  grasp, 
The  toil  that  brings  no  fear  holds  highest  place. 

Nfof.   I  bid  you  hush,  nor  lose  your  wits  in  fear  ; 
The  man  has  oped  his  eyes,  and  lifts  his  head. 

Phil.  [Waking.]  O  light  that  follow'st  sleep  !   O  help, 

my  thoughts 

Had  never  dared  to  hope  for  from  these  strangers ! 
For  never  had  I  dreamt,  O  boy,  that  thou 
With  such  true  pity  would'st  endure  to  bear 
All  these  my  sorrows,  and  remain,  and  help. 
The  Atreidae  ne'er  had  heart  to  bear  with  them, 
As  well  as  thou  hast  borne.     Brave  generals  they ! 
136 


PHILOCTETES 

But  thou,  my  son,  who  art  of  noble  heart, 

And  sprung  from  noble-hearted  ones,  hast  made 

But  light  of  all,  though  every  sense  be  filled 

With  stench  and  shrieks.    And  now,  since  respite  seems 

At  hand,  and  some  refreshment  after  pain, 

Do  thou,  my  son,  upraise  me,  steady  me, 

That  when  the  pain  shall  leave  me,  we  may  make        m 

Straight  for  the  ship,  and  tarry  not  to  sail. 

Neop.  Right  glad  am  I  to  see,  beyond  all  hopes, 
That  thou  dost  live  and  breathe,  as  free  from  pain  ; 
For,  measured  by  the  nature  of  thine  ills, 
Thy  symptoms  were  of  one  who  breathes  no  more. 
But  now  rise  up,  or,  if  it  please  thee  best, 
These  men  shall  bear  thee,  nor  will  grudge  their  toil, 
Since  this  seems  right  to  thee  and  me  to  do. 

Phil.  I  thank  thee,  boy.     Do  thou,  as  thou  dost  say, 
Upraise  me  ;  but  for  these  men,  let  them  be, 
Lest  they  too  soon  be  sickened  with  the  stench  ;          *" 
To  dwell  with  me  on  board  is  bad  enough. 

Neop.  So  shall  it  be ;  but  rise,  and  lean  on  me. 
[PHILOCTETFS  rises,   with  the  help  of  NEOPTOLEMOS, 
and  walks,  leaning  on  his  arm. 

Phil.  Be  not  afraid  ;  long  use  will  keep  me  straight. 

Neop.  [Suddenly  starting.']  O   heavens  !  what  now  re- 
mains for  me  to  do  ? 

Phil.  What  ails  thee,  O  my  son  ?     What  words  are 
these  ? 

Neop.  I  know  not  how  to  speak  my  sore  distress. 

Phil.  Distress   from  what  ?     Speak   not  such  words, 
my  son. 

Neop.  And  yet  in  that  calamity  I  stand. 

Phil.  It  cannot  be  my  wound's  foul  noisomeness      *°° 
Hath  made  thee  loth  to  take  me  in  thy  ship  ? 

Neop.  All  things  are  noisome  when  a  man  deserts 
His  own  true  self,  and  does  what  is  not  meet. 

Phil.  But  thou,  at  least,  nor  doest  aught  nor  say'st, 
'37 


PHILOCTETES 

Unworthy  of  thy  father's  soul,  when  thou 
Dost  help  a  man  right  honest. 

Neop.  I  shall  seem 

Basest  of  men.     Long  since  this  tortured  m;. 

Phil.  Not  from  thy  deeds,  but  from  thy  words  I  shrink. 

Neop.  What  shall  I  do,  O  Zeus  ?  Once  more  be  found 
A  villain,  hiding  things  I  should  not  hide, 
And  speaking  words  most  shameful  ? 

Phil.  This  man  seems, 

Unless  my  judgment  errs,  about  to  sail,  81(1 

Betraying  and  deserting  me. 

Neop.  Not  so  ; 

'Tis  not  deserting  thee  that  tortures  me, 
But  lest  I  take  thee  to  thine  own  distress. 

Phil.  What  means  this,  boy  ?   I  do  not  grasp  thy  scope. 

Neop.  I  will  hide  nought.     Thou  must  to  Troi'a  sail, 
To  those  Atreidae  and  the  Argive  host. 

Phil.  Ah  me  !  what  say'st  thou  ? 

Neap.  Groan  not  till  thou  know. 

Phil.  What  knowledge  ?    What  mean'st  thou  to  do 
with  me  ? 

Neop.  To  save  thee  from  this  evil  first,  and  then 
With  thee  to  go  and  ravage  Tro'ia's  plains.  92* 

Phil.  And  dost  thou  think,  indeed,  to  do  all  this  ? 

Neop.  A  stern  necessity  compels  ;  and  thou, 
Hear  me,  and  be  not  angry. 

Phil.  I  am  lost, 

Ah  me!   betrayed.     What  hast  thou  done  to  me, 
O  stranger  ?     Give  me  back  my  bow  again. 

Neop.  That  may  not  be.     To  list  to  those  that  rule 
Both  with  the  right,  and  mine  own  good  accords. 

Phil.  Thou  fire,  thou  utter  mischief,  masterpiece 
Of  craft  most  hateful,  how  thou  treated'st  me, 
Yea,  how  deceived'st !     Art  thou  not  ashamed, 
Thou  wretch,  to  look  on  me  thy  suppliant, 
Fleeing  to  thee  for  succour  ?     Taking  these, 
,38 


PHILOCTETES 

My  arrows,  them  dost  rob  me  of  my  life  ; 
Restore  them,  I  beseech  thee,  I  implore, 
Restore  them,  O  my  son.     By  all  the  Gods 
Thy  fathers  worshipped,  rob  me  not  of  life. 
Ah,  wretched  me  !     He  does  not  answer  me, 
But  looks  away  as  one  who  will  not  yield. 
O  creeks  !     O  cliffs  out-jutting  in  the  deep ! 
O  all  ye  haunts  of  beasts  that  roam  the  hills, 

0  rocks  that  go  sheer  down,  to  you  I  wail, 
(None  other  do  I  know  to  whom  to  speak,) 
To  you  who  were  my  old  familiar  friends, 
The  things  this  son  of  great  Achilles  does ; 
Swearing  that  he  would  take  me  to  my  home 
He  takes  me  off  to  Troi'a  ;  giving  me 

His  right  hand  as  a  pledge,  he  keeps  my  bow, 

The  bow  of  Heracles,  the  son  of  Zeus, 

And  fain  would  show  me  to  the  Argive  host. 

He  takes  me  off  by  force,  as  though  I  were 

In  my  full  strength,  and  knows  not  that  he  slays 

A  dead,  cold  corpse,  a  very  vapour's  shade, 

A  phantom  worthless.     Never,  were  I  strong, 

Had  he  o'erpowered  me  ;  even  as  I  am 

He  had  not  caught  me  but  by  fraud  ;  but  now 

1  have  been  tricked  most  vilely.     What  comes  next  ? 
What  must  I  do  ? ...  Nay,  give  them  back  to  me. 
Be  thyself  once  again.  .  .  .   What  sayest  thou  ? 
Thou  'rt  silent  ...  I,  poor  I,  am  now  as  nought. 

0  cave  with  double  opening,  once  again 

1  enter  thee  stript  bare,  my  means  of  life 
Torn  from  me.     I  shall  waste  away  alone 
In  this  my  dwelling,  slaying  with  this  bow 
Nor  winged  bird,  nor  beast  that  roams  the  hills  ; 
But  I  myself,  alas,  shall  give  a  meal 

To  those  who  gave  me  mine,  and  whom  I  chased 
Now  shall  chase  me  ;  and  I,  in  misery, 
Shall  pay  in  death  the  penalty  of  death 
139 


PHILOCTETES 

By  me  inflicted  ;  and  all  this  is  done 
By  one  who  seemed  to  know  no  evil  thought  : 
Destruction  seize  thee.  .  .  .  Nay,  not  yet,  till  I 
Have  learnt  if  thou  wilt  once  more  change  thy  mood  ; 
If  not,  then  may'st  thou  perish  miserably  ! 

Chor.  [To  NEOPTOLEMOS.]  What  shall  we  do?    It  res's 

with  thee,  O  prince, 
To  bid  us  sail,  or  with  his  words  comply. 

Neop.  Not  for  the  first  time  now,  but  long  ago 
Has  a  strange  pity  seized  me  for  this  man. 

Phil.  Have  mercy  on  me,  boy,  by  all  the  Gods, 
And  do  not  shame  thyself  by  tricking  me. 

Neop.  What  shall  I  do  ?     Ah,  would  I  ne'er  had  left 
My  Skyros  !  so  great  evils  press  on  me. 

Phil.  Thou  art  not  base  thyself,  but  from  the  base 
Learning  foul  evil,  thou,  'twould  seem,  did'st  come  : 
Now  leaving  it  to  those  whom  it  befits, 
Sail  on  thy  way  .  .   .  but  first  give  back  my  arms. 

Neop.  [To  Chorus.]  What  shall  we  do,  friends  ? 

Enter  ODYSSEUS,  suddenly  appearing  from  behind. 

Odys.  Wretch,  what  doest  thou  ? 

Wilt  not  go  back,  and  give  the  bow  to  me? 

Phil.  Ah  !     Who  is  this  ?     Do  I  Odysseus  hear  ? 

Odys.   Know  well,  it  is  Odysseus  that  stands  here  ? 

Phil.   Woe!  woe  !   I  am  entrapped,  I  am  undone; 
And  was  it  he  who  snared  me,  filched  mine  arms  ? 

Odys.  I  and  none  other.     I  avow  the  deed. 

Phil.  [To  NEOPTOLEMOS.]  Dear  boy,  restore  it  ;  give 
me  back  my  bow. 

Odys.  That  he  shall  not  do,  even  though  he  wish  ; 
Thou  too  go'st  with  them,  or  these  men  shall  force  thee. 

Phil.  What  ?  me  ?  thou  basest  and  all-daring  one  ; 
And  shall  they  force  me  ? 

Odys.  Yea,  unless  thou  go 

Of  thine  own  will. 

140 


PHILOCTETES 

Phil.  O  land  of  Lemnos'  isle, 

O  mightiest  Fire  by  great  Hephasstos  wrought,1 
Can  it  be  borne  this  man  should  bear  me  off 
By  force  from  thy  dominions  ? 

Odys.  Zeus,  'tis  Zeus, 

Know  thou  this  well,  that  rules  this  land — that  Zeus 
Who  wills  these  things ;  I  but  his  servant  am.  ^ 

Phil.  O  hateful  wretch,  what  bold  device  is  this? 
Sheltering  thyself  behind  the  Gods,  thou  mak'st 
The  Gods  as  liars. 

Odys.  Nay,  not  so,  but  true ; 

At  any  rate  this  journey  thou  must  go. 

Phil.  No,  that  I  will  not. 

Odys.  Yes,  thou  shalt :  obey ! 

Phil.  Ah,  miserable  me!  'Tis  clear  our  sire 
Begat  us  not  as  freemen,  but  as  slaves. 

Odys.  Nay,  nay,  not  so,  but  equal  with  the  best, 
With  whom  thou  too  must  Tro'ia  take  and  sack, 
And  raze  it  to  the  ground. 

Phil.  [Rushing  to  a  projecting  point  of  the  clif.]  That 

ne'er  shall  be, 

Not  though  I  needs  must  suffer  every  ill, 
While  yet  this  beetling  crag  is  left  to  me.  100° 

Odys.  What  wilt  thou  do  ? 

Phil.  From  this  rock  throw  myself, 

And  dash  my  head  upon  the  rock  below. 

Odys.  [To  the  Sailors.]  Quick,  hold  him  fast.  Prevent 
his  doing  it. 

[Sailors  seize   PHILOCTETES,  and   bind  his 
hands  behind  his  backl\ 

Phil.  O  hands  !  What  shame  ye  suffer,  lacking  now 
The  bow-string  that  ye  loved  so  well,  and  thus 
Made  prisoners  by  this  man !     O  thou,  whose  soul 

1  The  "  fire"  is  again  that  of  the  volcano,  which  was  believed  to 
come  from  the  forge  at  which  Hephaestos  laboured  in  the  heart  of 
the  mountain. 


PHILOCTETES 

Has  never  known  a  generous,  healthy  thought, 
How  hast  thou  tricked  me,  ta'en  me  in  a  snare. 
Putting  this  boy  I  knew  not,  as  thy  blind, 
Unmeet  for  thee,  for  me  of  meetest  mood, 
Who  nothing  knew  except  to  do  his  task :  lolfl 

And,  clearly,  now  he  grieves,  sore  vexed  at  heart, 
At  all  his  faults,  at  all  my  sufferings. 
But  thy  base  soul,  that  ever  peeps  and  spies 
Through  chinks  and  crannies,  taught  him  but  too  well, 
Guileless  and  all  unwilling  as  he  was, 
The  subtlety  of  fraud.     And  now  thou  think'st, 
O  wretch,  to  bind  and  take  me  from  these  shores, 
Where  thou  did'st  cast  me  forth,  in  friendless  case, 
Lonely  and  homeless,  dead  to  all  that  live. 
Perdition  seize  thee !     That  I  oft  have  prayed, 
But  since  the  Gods  grant  nought  that  pleases  me,        1WO 
Thou  laugh'st  and  liv'st,  and  I  am  vexed  at  heart 
At  this  same  thing,  that  I  live  on  in  woe 
With  many  evils,  flouted  at  by  thee, 
And  those  two  chiefs,  the  Atreidas  whom  thou  serv'st: 
And  yet  thou  sailed'st  with  them  by  constraint, 
By  tricks  fast  bound,  while  me,  poor  wretch,  (who  sailed 
With  seven  good  ships,  of  mine  own  will,)  they  cast, 
(So  thou  say'st,  but  they  say  the  deed  was  thine,) 
Dishonoured  forth.     And  now  why  take  ye  me  ? 
Why  drag  me  off?     What  aim  have  ye  in  this  ? 
I,  who  am  nothing,  long  since  dead  to  you, 
Yea,  am  I  not,  O  thou  abhorred  of  Gods, 
Lame,  and  ill-savoured  ?     How,  if  I  should  sail, 
Could  ye  unto  the  Gods  burn  sacrifice, 
Or  pour  libation  ?     'Twas  on  that  pretence 
Ye  cast  me  forth.     Perdition  seize  you  all  ! 
And  it  shall  seize  you,  seeing  ye  have  wronged 
Him  who  stands  here,  if  yet  the  Gods  regard 
Or  right,  or  truth.     And  full  assured  am  I 
They  do  regard  them.     For  ye  ne'er  had  come 
142 


PHILOCTETES 

On  this  your  errand  for  a  wretch  like  me, 

Unless  the  pricks  of  heaven-sent  yearning  for  him 

Had  spurred  you  on.     But,  O  my  fatherland, 

And  all  ye  Gods  who  look  on  me,  avenge, 

Avenge  me  on  them  all  in  time  to  come, 

If  ye  have  pity  on  me.     Piteously 

As  now  I  live,  if  I  could  see  them  smitten, 

I  then  should  deem  my  long  disease  was  healed. 

Chor.  Sore  vexed  is  he  ;  sore  words  the  stranger  apeaks, 
Not  yielding,  O  Odysseus,  to  his  ills. 

Odys.  I  might  say  much  in  answer  to  his  words, 
If  there  were  time.     Now  this  one  word  I  speak  : 
Where  men  like  this  are  wanted,  such  am  I ; 
But  when  the  time  for  good  and  just  men  calls, 
Thou  could'st  not  find  a  godlier  man  than  me. 
In  every  case  it  is  my  bent  to  win ; 
Except  with  thee.     To  thee  of  mine  own  will 
I  yield  the  victory.      Ho,  leave  him  there  ! 
Lay  no  hand  on  him,  let  him  here  remain. 
With  these  thy  arms  we  have  no  need  of  thee : 
Teucros  is  with  us,  skilled  in  this  thine  art ; 
And  I,  too,  boast  that  I,  not  less  than  thou, 
This  bow  can  handle,  with  my  hand  shoot  straight ; 
What  need  we  thee  ?     In  Lemnos  walk  at  will ;          Ioe" 
And  let  us  go.     And  they  perchance  will  give 
As  prize  to  me  what  rightly  thou  might'st  claim. 

Phil.  Ah  me  !  And  what  shall  I,  unhappy,  do  ? 
And  wilt  thou  then  among  the  Argives  go, 
Equipped  with  my  arms  ? 

Odys.  Speak  thou  not  a  word 

To  me,  who  stand  in  very  act  to  go. 

Phil.  And  thou,  Achilles'  son,  shall  I  remain 
Without  a  word  from  thee  ?     Dost  thou  thus  go? 

Odys.  \To  NEOPTOLEMOS.]  Go  thou,  and  look  not  on 

him,  lest,  though  noble, 
Thou  ruin  our  success. 

»43 


PHILOCTETES 

Phil.  [To  Chorus.]     And  will  ye  leave, 
O  strangers,  will  ye  leave  me,  pitying  not  ? 

Ckor.  [To    PHILOCTETES.]    This   youth   is   our   com- 
mander, and  whate'er 
He  speaks  to  thee,  the  same  we  also  say. 

Neop.  [To  Chorus,  pointing  to  ODYSSEUS.]   I   shall  be 

told,  I  know,  by  our  chief  here, 
That  I  am  piteous  and  of  melting  mood; 
Yet,  spite  of  this,  remain,  if  so  he  will, 
At  least  a  while,  until  the  sailors  put 
Our  sailing  gear  in  order,  and  we  have  made 
Due  prayers  unto  the  Gods.     So  he,  [pointing  to  PHILOC- 
TETES] perchance, 

Meantime  may  cherish  better  thoughts  of  us. 
Now  then,  let  us  depart,  and  ye,  be  quick, 
When  we  shall  call  you,  to  proceed  with  us. 

[Exeunt  NEOPTOLEMOS  and  ODYSSEUS. 

STROPHE  I 
Phil.  O  cave  of  hollow  rock, 

Now  hot,  now  icy  cold, 

And  I  was  doomed,  ah  me! 

To  leave  thee  never  more  ; 
^ut  e'en  in  death  thou  still  wilt  be  to  me 

My  one  true  helping  friend. 
O  woe,  woe,  woe  ! 

O  home  most  full  of  grief, 

My  grief,  me  miserable  ! 

What  now  shall  come  to  me 

As  day  succeeds  to  day? 

Whence  shall  I,  in  my  woe, 

Find  hope  of  food  to  live  ? 

Ah,  now  the  swift-winged  birds 

*Will  soar  in  loftiest  flight, 

*High  through  the  whistling  wind ; 

For  I  am  powerless. 

'44 


PHILOCTETES 

Cbor.  Thou,  thou  thyself,  O  man  of  many  woes, 

Hast  brought  them  on  thyself; 
It  is  not  from  a  Power  above  thine  own 

This  ill  fate  falls  on  thee, 

Since  thou,  when  wisdom  was  at  hand,  didst  choose, 
Thy  better  genius  scorned,  to  praise  the  worse. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
Phil.  O  miserable  me  ! 

Outraged  with  foulest  wrong, 
Who  for  the  years  to  come 
In  woe,  no  helper  near, 
Shall  henceforth,  dwelling  here,  consume  away, 

(Ah  me  !  ah  me  !) 
Gaining  no  food  for  life 
From  those  my  swift-winged  darts, 
With  firm  hands  grasping  them ; 
But  unsuspected  words 
Of  guileful  mind  deceived; 
Would  I  might  see  the  man 
Whose  heart  devised  these  things, 
Bearing  these  pains  of  mine 
As  long  as  I  have  borne  ! 
Chor.  Fate  was  it,  fate  that  cometh  of  the  Gods, 

Not  guile,  that  brought  thee  thus 
Within  my  power  ;  on  others  launch  thy  curse,  11JO 

Baleful,  and  fraught  with  ill. 
This  is  the  care  that  I  have  most  at  heart, 
That  thou  should'st  not  true  friendship  thrust  aside. 

STROPHE  II 
Phil.  Ah,  woe  is  me  !  he  sits, 

Where  the  shore  is  white  with  waves, 
And  laughs  within  himself, 
And  tosses  in  his  hands 
What  fed  my  wretched  life, 
By  none  else  borne  till  now. 

II  145  C 


PHILOCTETES 

0  bow,  of  me  beloved, 
Torn  from  my  loving  grasp, 
Surely,  if  thou  can'st  feel, 

Thou  lookest  piteously  r" 

On  me,  the  bosom  friend  of  Heracles, 
Who  never  more  shall  bend  thee  as  of  old ; 

But  now  thou  changest  hands, 
Art  wielded  by  a  man  of  many  wiles, 

And  seest  foul  deceits, 

A  man  thou  needs  must  loathe  and  execrate, 
Ten  thousand  plots  from  shameful  deeds  upspringing, 

*Such  as  none  else  contrived. 
Chor.  'Tis  a  man's  part  to  say  that  good  is  right,     114a 

But  having  said  it  out, 

Not  to  thrust  forth  his  carping  grief  in  speech. 
He  was  but  one,  by  many  set  to  work, 

And  yielding  to  their  will, 
Hath  wrought  a  common  good  for  all  his  friends. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Phil.  O  all  ye  winged  game, 
And  tribes  of  bright-eyed  deer, 
Who  on  these  high  lawns  fed, 
No  more  from  this  my  home 
Will  ye  allure  me  forth. 

1  wield  not  in  my  hands 
The  strength  I  had  of  old 
(Ah  me!)  from  those  my  darts; 
Full  carelessly  this  place 

Is  barred  against  you  now, 
No  longer  fearful ;  come  ye,  now  'tis  well 
That  ye  in  turn  should  glut  your  ravenous  maw 

With  this  my  spotted  flesh. 
Soon  I  shall  end  my  life  ;  for  whence  can  I 

Find  means  withal  to  live? 
Who  thus  can  feed  upon  the  empty  winds, 
146 


PHILOCTETES 

Gaining  no  more  what  earth  brings  forth  to  men, 

The  giver  of  their  life  ? 
Chor.  Ah,  by  the  Gods,  if  thou  dost  still  regard 

A  true  friend's  claim  on  thee, 
Draw  near  to  him  who  draweth  near  to  thee 
With  every  word  of  friendliness  ;  but  know, 
Know  well,  it  rests  with  thee 
To  'scape  from  this  thy  grief. 
Sad  is 't  to  feed  that  woe, 
And,  yet  unschooled,  to  bear  the  thousand  ills 

That  with  it  company. 
Phil.  Again,  again  thou  hintest  at  a  grief 

That  vexed  me  sore  long  since  ; 
Thou  best  of  all  that  ever  tarried  here, 
Why  did'st  thou  lay  me  low  ?  why  work  my  doom  ? 
Cbor.  Why  speak'st  thou  thus  ? 
Phil.  In  that  thou  thought's!  to  take  me  once  again 

To  Troas,  which  I  hate. 
Cbor.  This  seems  to  me  far  better. 
Phil.  Leave  me ;  leave. 

Cbor.  Welcome,  right  welcome  are  the   things   thou 

say'st. 

And  we  desire  to  do  them.     Let  us  go, 
Come,  let  us  go,  and  each  his  own  set  place 
Take  in  our  ship. 

Phil.  By  Zeus,  who  hears 

The  prayers  of  those  that  curse,  go  not,  I  pray. 
Chor.  Be  calm,  be  calm. 

Phil.  O  friends,  by  all  the  Gods, 

I  pray  you  tarry. 

Chor.  Why  this  eager  cry? 

Phil.  Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  O  God,  O  God,  I  die, 

Die  in  my  misery ! 
O  foot,  O  foot,  what  shall  I  do  with  thee 

Henceforth  in  this  my  woe  ? 
O  friends,  come  back,  and  tarry  once  again. 


PHTLOCTETES 

Chor.  What  should  we  come  to  do 
With  any  hope  of  altered  purpose  here, 
Other  than  that  thou  shovved'st  to  us  before  ? 

Phil.  Ye  must  not  be  too  wroth 
That  one  so  tempest-tost  with  stormy  grief 

Should  speak  against  his  better,  truer  thoughts. 
Ckor.  Come,  then,  poor  sufferer,  as  we  bid  thee  come. 
Phil.  Never,  yea,  nevermore,  be  sure  of  that ; 
Not  though  the  fiery  thunderbolt  that  falls 

With  sudden  blaze  of  light, 
Should  burn  me  with  its  dreaded  lightning-flash. 
Yea,  perish  Ilion ;  with  it  perish  there 
Those  that  could  dare  cast  forth  this  foot  of  mine. 
But  oh,  my  friends,  grant  me  at  least  one  prayer. 
Ckor.  What  is  't  thou  askest  ? 

Phil.  Give  me  but  a  sword, 

If  thou  hast  one,  or  axe,  or  any  weapon. 

Chor.  What  deed  of  prowess  wilt  thou  work  with  them  ? 
Phil.  I  will  strike  off  my  head,  and  lop  my  limbs  ; 
My  soul  thirsts  eagerly  for  blood,  for  blood. 
Chor.  But  why  is  this  ? 

Phil.  Lo,  I  my  father  seek.         "ie 

Chor.  Where  wilt  thou  go  ? 
Phil.  To  Hades,  for  he  lives 

No  longer  in  this  light. 
O  city,  city  of  my  fathers,  fain, 
All  wretched  though  I  be, 
Fain  would  I  see  thee  still! 
I  who  thy  sacred  stream * 
Did  leave  to  help  my  foes  the  Danai  ; 

And  now  I  am  as  nought. 

Chor.  Long  since  had  I  been  making  for  my  ship, 
Had  I  not  seen  Odysseus  drawing  nigh, 
And,  coming  with  him,  great  Achilles'  son. 

[PHILOCTETES  reiirti  into  his  cave 
1  The  "sacred  stream  "  is  the  Spercheios.     Comp.  1.  726. 
148 


PH1LOCTETES 

Enter  NEOPTOLEMOS,  folloived  by  ODYSSEUS. 

Odys.  Wilt  thou  not    tell  me  why  so  quick  thou 

speed'st, 
Turning  thy  steps  upon  a  backward  way? 

Neap,  I  go  to  undo  the  wrongs  I  did  before. 

Odys.  Thou  speakest  strangely.    And  what  wrong  was 
there  ? 

Neop.  That  I,  obeying  thee  and  all  the  host  .... 

Odys.  What  did'st  thou  do  that  was  not  right  for  thee  ? 

Neop.  I  tricked  a  man  with  shameful  fraud  and  guile. 

Odys.  Think  what  he  was.     What   fancy  strange  is 
this  ?  [123° 

Neop.  'Tis  no  strange  fancy,  but  to  Pceas'  son  .... 

Odys.  What  wilt  thou  do  ?     A  fear  comes  over  me. 

Neop.  From  whom  I  took  this  bow,  to  him  again  .... 

Odys.  O   Zeus,  what  now  ?     Thou  wilt  not  give  it 
him  ? 

Neop.  Yea,  for  I  gained  it  basely,  not  of  right. 

Odys.  By  all  the  Gods,  dost  thou  say  this  to  mock  me  ? 

Neop.  If  it  be  mockery  but  to  speak  the  truth. 

Odys.  Son  of  Achilles,  what  is  this  thou  say'st  ? 

Neop.  Shall  I  then  twice  or  thrice  repeat  the  words  ? 

Odys.   I  had  not  wished  to  hear  them  even  once. 

Neop.  Know,  thou  hast  heard  whate'er  I  had  to  say.  mo 

Odys.  There  is  one,  yea,  there  is,  will  stop  thy  deed. 

Neop.  What  say'st  thou  ?    Who  shall  stop  my  doing  it  ? 

Odys.  The  whole  Achaean  host,  and  I  with  them. 

Neop.  Wise  though  thou    be,    thou    dost  not   wisely 
speak. 

Odys.  Thou  neither  speakest  wise  things  nor  devisest. 

Neop.  If  they  be  just,  then  are  they  more  than  wise. 

Odys.  And  how  can  it  be  just  to  cast  away 
That  which  my  counsels  gave  thee  ? 

Neop.  Having  sinned 

A  shameful  sin,  I  now  would  make  amends. 
149 


PHILOCTETES 

Odys.  And  fear'st  thou  not  the  Achaean  host,  doing 
this? 

Neop.  My  cause  being  just,  I  share  not  that  thy  fear ; 
[ODYSSEUS  prepares  to  attack  NEOPTOLEMOS. 
Nor  will  I  yield  to  this  thy  violence. 

Odys.  Not  with  the  Troians,  then,  I  fight,  but  thee. 

Neop.  What  must  be,  let  it. 

Odys.  [Laying  hand  on  his  sword.~\    Ha  !      And   dost 

thou  see 
My  right  hand  grasp  the  hilt  ? 

Neop.  [Drawing  his  sword]  See  then  that  I 
Can  do  the  same  as  thou,  in  act,  not  threat. 

Odys.  I  then  will  let  thee  go,  but  to  the  host 
I  will  tell  this,  and  they  shall  punish  thee. 

Neop.  Thou  'rt  wise  in  time  ;  and  should'st  thou  keep 

that  mind, 

Thou  may'st  perchance  thy  foot  keep  out  of  harm.      128° 

[ODYSSEUS  retires. 

Ho,  Philoctetes  !     Ho  there,  Poeas'  son, 
Come  forth,  and  leave  this  rocky  roof  of  thine. 

Phil.  What  noise  of  shouting  make  ye  at  my  cave  ? 
Why  call  ye  me  ?     What  want  ye,  strangers,  here  ? 
Alas,  'tis  something  evil.     Are  ye  come 
To  bring  fresh  evils  upon  evils  on  me  ? 

Neop.  Be  of  good  cheer,  and  list  to  what  I  speak. 

Phil.  Nay,  but  I  fear:  'twas  by  fair  words  before 
That  I  fared  foully,  by  thy  words  deceived. 

Neop.  And  is  repentance,  then,  impossible? 

Phil.  Such  wast  thou  then,  when  thou  did'st  steal  my 

bow, 
Faithful  in  words,  within  all  treacherous, 

Neop.   But  not  so  now :  I  wish  to  hear  from  thee, 
Whether  thy  mind  is  fixed  to  tarry  here, 
Or  sail  with  us. 

Phil.  Stop,  stop  ;  not  one  word  more  : 

All  that  tkou  speakest  will  be  said  in  vain. 
150 


PHILOCTETES 

Neop.  Is  this  thy  mind  ? 

Phil.  Yet  stronger  than  I  speak. 

Neop.  I  would  that  thou  had'st  hearkened  to  my  words  ,- 
But  if  I  chance  to  speak  unseasonably, 
I  hold  my  peace. 

Phil.  Thou  wilt  say  all  in  vain, 

For  never  shalt  thou  turn  my  mind  to  thee, 
Who,  taking  from  me  that  which  gave  me  life, 
Did'st  basely  rob  me  of  it,  and  now  com'st, 
And  givest  me  thy  counsel,  basest  son 
Of  noblest  father.     May  ye  perish  all, 
And  chiefly  the  Atreidaj  ;  after  them, 
Laertes'  son  and  thou  !  »., 

Neop.  [Holding  out  the  botu.~\  Curse  thou  no  more, 
But  from  my  hand  receive  these  weapons  back. 

Phil.  How  say'st    thou  ?     Are  we  tricked  a  second 
time  ? 

Neop.  No,  by  the  holy  might  of  highest  Zeus ! 

Phil.  O  words  most  welcome,  if  they  be  but  true !    1WO 

Neop.  Our  acts  shall  make  them  clear  ;  do  thou  put 

forth 
Thy  right  hand,  and  be  master  of  thine  arms. 

[4s  be  is  giving  the  6otv,  ODYSSEUS  apptan 
from  behind. 

Odys.  That  I  forbid,  the  Gods  my  witnesses, 
fn  name  of  the  Atreidae,  and  the  host. 

Phil.  Whose  voice,  my  son,  was  that  ?    What  ?    Did  I 

hear 
Odysseus  speak  ? 

Odys.  E'en  so,  thou  see'st  him  near, 

Who  by  main  force  will  bear  thee  off  to  Troy, 
Whether  Achilles'  son  shall  please  or  no. 

Phil.  [Bending  his  botvJ]  But  to  thy  cost,  if  this  dart 
does  not  miss. 

Neop.  [Staying  his  arm.]  Oh,  by  the  Gods,  I  pray  thee 
shoot  it  not  ! 


PHILOCTETES 

Phil.  Let  loose  my  hand,  I  pray  thee,  dearest  be  jr. 

Neop.  I  will  not  let  thee  go. 

Phil.  Fie  on  thee !     Why 

Did'st  hinder  me  from  slaying  with  my  dart 
A  man  I  hate,  my  bitter  enemy  ? 

[ODYSSEUS  steals  away. 

Neop.  That  were  not  good  for  me,  nor  yet  for  thee. 

Phil.  Know  this  then,  that  the  chief  of  all  the  host, 
The  Achaeans'  lying  heralds,  they  are  cowards 
In  brunt  of  fight,  though  overbold  of  speech. 

Neop.  Well,  be  it  so.     But  thou  hast  now  thy  bow, 
And  hast  no  cause  for  wrath  or  blaming  me. 

Phil.  I  own   it.     Thou,  dear   boy,   hast  shown  the 

stock 

From  which  thou  springest,  not  from  Sisyphos, 
But  from  Achilles,  who  alive  was  held 
Of  highest  fame,  and  is  so  with  the  dead. 

Neop.  It  gives  me  joy  to  hear  thee  praise  my  father, 
Praising  me  also  ;  but  what  now  I  wish 
Hear  thou,  I  pray  thee.      Mortals  needs  must  bear 
The  chances  which  the  Gods  on  high  shall  give  : 
But  those  who  fall  upon  self-chosen  ills, 
As  thou  hast  fallen,  they  have  little  claim 
To  pardon  or  compassion.     Thou  art  fierce, 
And  wilt  not  list  to  one  who  counsels  thee ; 
And  if  one  give  advice  in  pure  good  will, 
Thou  hatest  him,  and  deemest  him  a  foe. 
Fet  I  will  speak,  invoking  holy  Zeus, 
The  guardian  of  all  oaths.      Be  sure  of  this, 
And  write  it  in  the  tablets  of  thy  mind, 
Thy  pain  has  come  to  thee  by  heaven-sent  chance, 
In  that  thou  cam'st  too  near  to  Chryse's  guard, 
The  serpent  who  in  secret  keeps  his  watch 
Over  the  unroofed  precincts  of  her  shrine  ; 
And  know  that  thou  shalt  find  no  respite  here 
From  this  thy  sore  disease,  while  yet  yon  sun 


PHILOCTETES 

Rises  on  this  side,  sets  again  on  that, 
Until  thou  journey  of  thine  own  free  will 
To  Troi'a's  plains,  and  meeting  there  with  those 
Who  call  Asclepios  father,1  shalt  be  healed 
Of  thy  disease,  and  shalt  with  these  thy  darts, 
And  with  my  help,  lay  low  its  ancient  Towers. 
And  I  will  tell  thee  how  I  know  these  things 
Stand  thus  ordained  ;  for  we  a  prophet  have, 
Taken  from  Troi'a,  noblest  seer  of  all, 
And  Helenos  his  name,  who  clearly  saith 
That  these  things  so  must  be  ;  and  further  yet, 
That  it  is  doomed,  this  very  harvest  tide, 
That  Troi'a  should  be  taken  utterly  ; 
And  should  he  prove  false  prophet,  in  our  hands 
He  placed  his  life.     And  since  thou  knowest  this, 
Of  thy  free  will  consent ;  for  great  the  gain, 
Being  judged  the  noblest  one  of  Hellenes  all, 
To  find  skilled  hands  to  heal  thee,  and  to  gain, 
Sacking  loud-wailing  Troi'a,  highest  praise. 

Phil.  O  hateful  life,  why,  why  detain'st  thou  me 
In  day's  clear  light,  and  dost  not  let  me  go 
To  Hades  dark?     Ah  me  !  what  shall  I  do? 
How  shall  I  prove  distrustful  to  his  words, 
Who  gives  me  counsel  out  of  kindly  thought  ? 
Yet  must  I  yield  ?     And  how  shall  I,  ill-starred, 
Do  this,  and  then  look  up  ?     From  whom  shall  I 
Hear  greeting  kind  ?     How  will  ye,  O  mine  eyes, 
That  watch  all  varying  chances  of  my  life, 
How  will  ye  bear  to  see  me  living  on 
With  those  Atreidse  who  have  ruined  me, 
Or  with  that  vilest  son  of  Lartios  ? 
It  is  not  now  the  sorrow  of  the  past 
That  chiefly  gnaws,  but  what  I  seem  to  see 
With  prophet's  glance  I  yet  am  doomed  to  bear 

i  The  two  sons  of  Asclepios,  Machaon  and  Podalsirios,  appear 
in  the  Iliad  (ii.  731)  as  the  great  surgeons  of  the  Hellenic  army. 
'53 


PHILOCTETES 

From  these  same  foes  ;  for  those  whose  soul  becomes  1M 

Mother  of  evil,  them  it  trains  to  be 

Evil  in  all  things.     And  'tis  this  that  moves 

My  wonder  at  thce  ;  for  'twas  meet  that  thou 

Should'st  ne'er  to  TroYa  come  thyself,  and  next 

Should'st  keep  us  from  them  who  so  outraged  thee, 

And  robbed  thee  of  thy  father's  treasured  arms, 

[And  slighting  Aias,  to  Odysseus  gave  them  ;] 

*And  art  thou  their  ally,  and  wilt  constrain 

Me  to  their  will  f     Nay,  nay,  not  so,  my  son  ; 

But,  as  thou  swarest,  send  me  to  my  home, 

While  thou,  in  Skyros  tarrying,  leavest  them, 

Evil  of  heart,  to  die  an  evil  death. 

And  thus  wilt  thou  gain  double  thanks  from  me,          13r- 

And  double  from  my  father,  nor  wilt  seem, 

Helping  the  base,  to  be  as  base  thyself. 

Neop.  Thou  speakest  what  shows  fair,  and  yet  I  wish 
That    thou    should'st    trust    the  Gods,   and    these   my 

words, 
And  sail  from  these  shores,  I  thy  friend  with  thee. 

Phil.  What !    with    this    wretched    foot    to  Tro'fa's 

plains, 
And  Atreus'  son,  my  bitterest  foe  of  all  ? 

Neop.  Nay,  but  to  those  who  '11  free  thy  ulcerous  foot 
From  pain,  and  save  thee  from  thy  sore  disease. 

Phil.  What  mean'st  thou,  friend,  who  givest  counsel 
strange  ? 

Neop.  That  which  I  see  works  best  for  both  of  us. 

Phil.  Hast  thou   no   awe  of  Gods,  who    say'st  suck 
words  ! 

Neop.  What    cause    of   shame   is    there    in    gaining 
good  ? 

Phil.  And  speak'st  thou   of  the   Atreidae's    good,   or 


mine 


Neop.  Thine,  for  I    am  thy    friend,    and   such     my 
speech. 

'54 


PHILOCTETES 

Phil.   How  so,  when  thou  would'st  give  me  to  my 
foes  ? 

Neop.  Learn  thou,  my  friend,  to  be  less  rash  in  ills. 

Phil.  I  know  thou  wilt  destroy  me  with  these  words. 

Neop.  Nay,  nay,  not  so  ;  thou  dost  not  understand. 

Phil.  Do  I  not  know  the  Atreids  cast  me  forth  ?    ia 

Neop.  But  if  they  save,  who  cast  thee  forth,  look  to  it, 

Phil.  Ne'er  with  my  will  shall  I  on  Troia  look. 

Neop.  What  then  remains,  if  we,  with  all  our  words, 
Still  fail  to  move  thee  ?     Easiest  course  it  were 
For  me  to  cease  from  speaking,  and  that  thou 
Should'st  live,  as  now,  without  deliverance. 

Phil.  Leave  me  to  suffer  what  I  suffer  must  ; 
But  what  thou  swarest,  thy  right  hand  as  pledge, 
To  lead  me  to  my  home,  that  do,  my  son, 
And  linger  not,  nor  further  mention  make 
Of  Troi'a  to  me.     I  have  had  my  fill 
Of  wailing  and  lament. 

Neop.  If  this  thy  will, 

Come,  let  us  go. 

Phil.  Now  spcak'st  thou  noble  words. 

Neep.  Plant  thy  foot  firm. 

Phil.  With  what  small  strength  I  have. 

Neop.  How  shall  I  'scape  the  Achaeans'  blame  ? 

Phil.  Despise  it. 

Neop.  And  what  if  they  shall  lay  my  country  waste  ? 

Phil.  I  shall  be  there. 

Neop.  What  would  thy  help  avail  ? 

Phil.  With  these  the  darts  of  Heracles.  .  .  . 

Neop.  What  then  \ 

Phil.  1  will  restrain  their  coming. 

Neop.  On  then,  take 

Thy  farewell  of  this  island. 

HERACLES  appears,  descending  from  the  sky,  in  glory. 
Hera.  Nay,  not  yet  ; 

155 


PHILOCTETES 

Not  till  thou  hear  our  words, 

Thou  son  of  Poeas  old  ;  mo 

Own  that  thou  hear'st  the  voice  of  Heracles 

And  look'st  upon  his  face. 

Lo,  for  thy  sake  I  come, 

Leaving  my  heavenly  home, 
To  tell  thee  of  the  thoughts  of  Zeus  on  high, 

And  to  close  up  the  way 

On  which  thou  journeyest  now. 

List  thou  to  these  my  words : 
And  first  my  own  life's  chances  I  will  tell, 
The  labours  I  endured,  through  which  I  passed 
And  gained  immortal  greatness  as  thou  see'st : 
And  this,  be  sure,  shall  be  thy  destined  lot, 
After  these  woes  to  live  a  noble  life  ; 
And  going  with  this  youth  to  Troi'a's  town, 
First  thou  shalt  respite  find  from  thy  sore  plague, 
And  for  thy  valour  chosen  from  the  host, 
Shalt  with  my  arrows  take  away  the  life 
Of  Paris,  who  was  cause  of  all  these  ills, 
And  shalt  sack  Troi'a,  and  shalt  send  its  spoils 
To  thine  own  dwelling  (gaining  highest  prize 
Of  valour  in  the  army)  by  the  plains 
Of  CEta,  where  thy  father  Pceas  dwells. 
And  all  the  spoils  thou  gainest  in  this  war, 
As  true  thank-offerings  for  these  darts  of  mine, 
Lay  thou  upon  my  grave.     And  now  [T^NEOPTOLEMOS] 

to  thee, 

Achilles'  son,  I  this  declare  ; — nor  thou, 
Apart  from  him,  nor  he  apart  from  thee, 
May  Tro'ia  take.     But  yc,  as  lions  twain 
That  roam  together,  guard  thou  him,  he  thee. 
And    I   will   send,   [To   PHILOCTETES]  as   healer  of   thy 

wounds, 

Asclepios  to  Ilion.     Yet  once  more 
By  this  my  bow  must  it  be  captured.     Then, 
156 


PHILOCTETES 

(Give  heed  to  this,)  when  ye  the  land  lay  waste,          lt* 
Shew  all  religious  reverence  to  the  Gods  ; 
For  all  things  else  our  father  Zeus  counts  less  : 
[Religion  e'en  in  death  abides  with  men  ; 
Die  they  or  live,  it  does  not  pass  away.] 
Phil.  O  thou,  who  utterest  voice, 

By  me  long  yearned  for, 

Who  now  at  length  art  seen, 
I  will  not  to  thy  words  rebellious  prove. 
Neop.  I  too  give  my  assent. 
Hera.  Delay  not  now  to  act ; 

For  time  and  wind  press  on, 

And  speed  you  on  your  way. 
Phil.  Come,  then,  I  leave  this  isle, 

And  speak  my  parting  words: 

Farewell,  O  roof,  long  time 

My  one  true  guard  and  friend  ; 

And  ye,  O  nymphs  that  sport 

In  waters  or  in  fields ; 

Strong  roar  of  waves  that  break 

On  jutting  promontory, 

Where  oft  my  head  was  wet, 

(Though  hid  in  far  recess,) 

With  blasts  of  stormy  South  ; 

And  oft  the  mount  that  bears 

The  name  of  Hermes1  gave 

Its  hollow,  loud  lament,  Mao 

Echoing  my  stormy  woe  ; 

And  now,  ye  streams  and  fount, 

Lykian,  where  haunt  the  wolves, 

We  leave  you,  leave  you  now, 

Who  ne'er  had  dreamt  of  this. 
Farewell,  O  Lemnos,  girt  by  waters  round, 

With  fair  breeze  send  me  on 

1  Hermes,  as  one  of  the  Cabeiri.  the  special  deities  of  Lemno 
and  Imbros. 

'57 


PHILOCTETES 

Right  well,  that  none  may  blame, 
Where  Fate,  the  mighty,  leads, 
Counsel  of  friends,  and  God, 
Who  worketh  this  in  might  invincible. 
Chor.  On  then,  with  one  accord, 

To  the  sea  Nymphs  offering  our  prayer, 
That  they  come  as  helpers  and  friends, 
In  the  voyage  of  the  homeward  bound. 


FRAGMENTS 

n1 

HAST  thou  done  fearful  evil  ?     Thou  must  bear 
Evil  as  fearful ;  and  the  holy  light 
Of  righteousness  shines  clearly. 

12 

Kings  wisdom  gain,  consorting  with  the  wise. 

13 

Man  is  but  breath  and  shadow,  nothing  more. 

H 

The  mightiest  and  the  wisest  in  their  minds 

Thou  may'st  see  like  to  him  who  standeth  here, 

Giving  good  counsel  to  a  man  distressed  ; 

But  when  God's  will  shall  send  the  scourge  on  one 

Who  lived  till  then  as  fortune's  favourite, 

All  his  fine  phrases  vanish  utterly. 

35 
'Neath  every  stone  there  lies  a  scorpion  hid. 

58 

Hark  !  some  one  cries Or  do  I  vainly  call  ? 

The  man  who  fears  hears  noise  on  every  side. 

59 

Be  sure,  no  lie  can  ever  reach  old  age. 

i  The  numerals  refer  to  Dindorf's  Edition. 
IS9 


FRAGMENTS 

61 

A  maiden  too,  and  one  of  Argive  race, 
Whose  glory  lies  in  fewest  words  or  none. 

62 

Short  speech  becomes  the  wise  of  heart  and  good 
To  parents  who  begat  and  bore  and  bred. 

63 

Be  of  good  cheer,  O  lady  :  dangers  oft, 

Though  blowing  dreams  by  night,  are  lulled  by  day. 

64 
None  cleave  to  life  so  fondly  as  the  old. 

65 

Life,  O  my  son,  is  sweetest  boon  of  all : 
It  is  not  given  to  men  to  taste  death  twice. 

66 

*The  living  should  not  glory  o'er  the  dead, 
As  knowing  well  that  he  himself  must  die. 

67 
How  all  men  seek  to  shun  the  tyrant's  face  I 


A  soul  with  good  intent  and  purpose  just 
Discerns  far  more  than  lecturer  can  teach. 

89 
Much  wisdom  often  goes  with  fewest  words. 

9° 

A  man  whose  whole  delight  is  still  to  talk 
Knows  not  how  much  he  vexes  all  his  friends. 

160 


FRAGMENTS 

9' 

If  thou  art  noble,  as  thou  say'st  thyself, 
Tell  me  from  whence  thou  'rt   sprung.     No  speech  can 

stain 
What  comes  of  noble  nature,  nobly  born. 

92 

Thy  speech  is  worthy,  not  too  harshly  said ; 
A  noble  stock  that  bears  the  test  of  proof, 
Will  still  gain  fair  repute  beyond  all  blame. 

93 

Who  can  count  man's  prosperity  as  great, 
Or  small  and  lowly,  or  of  no  account  ? 
None  of  all  this  continues  in  one  stay. 

94 

Strange  is  it  that  the  godless,  who  have  sprung 
From  evil-doers,  should  fare  prosperously, 
While  good  men,  born  of  noble  stock,  should  be 
By  adverse  fortune  vexed.     It  was  ill  done 
For  the  Gods  thus  to  order  lives  of  men. 
What  ought  to  be  is  this,  that  godly  souls 
Should  from  the  Gods  gain  some  clear  recompense, 
And  the  unjust  pay  some  clear  penalty ; 
So  none  would  prosper  who  are  base  of  soul. 

98 

Then  does  men's  life  become  one  vast  disease, 
When  once  they  seek  their  ills  by  ills  to  cure. 

99 

Not  easy  is  it  to  resist  the  just. 

100 

Deceit  is  base,  unfit  for  noble  souls. 

u  161  t 


FRAGMENTS 

101 

A  righteous  tongue  has  with  it  mightiest  strength. 

102 
Hush,  boy  !   for  silence  brings  a  thousand  gains. 

103 

Why  tellest  thou  thy  tale  of  many  words  ? 
Superfluous  speech  is  irksome  everywhere. 

104 

In  some  things  be  not  anxious  to  inquire: 
Far  better  is  it  oft  to  leave  them  hid. 

105 
I  know  not  how  to  answer  to  these  things. 

When  good  men  by  the  base 

Are  overcome  in  strife, 
What  city  coald  endure  such  deeds  as  this  j 

106 

No  one,  I  trow ;  yet  take  good  heed  to  this, 
Lest  it  be  better,  e'en  by  godless  deeds, 
To  triumph  over  foes  than  as  a  slave 
To  yield  obedience. 

107 

Cease  thou.     Enough  for  me  the  name  of  son 
Of  such  a  father,  if  indeed  I  'm  his: 
And  if  I  be  not,  small  the  injury  ; 
Repute  oft  triumphs  o'er  the  truth  itself. 

1 08 

The  bastard  is  as  strong  as  lawful  sons ; 
Goodness  still  claims  a  rank  legitimate. 

109 

Riches  gain  friends,  gain  honours, — further  still, 
Gain  highest  sovereignty  for  those  who  sit 

162 


FRAGMENTS 

In  low  estate.     The  rich  have  no  men  foes ; 

And  if  they  have,  these  still  conceal  their  hate. 

A  wondrous  power  has  wealth  to  wind  its  way 

Or  on  plain  ground,  or  heights  that  none  may  tread, 

Where  one  that's  poor,  although  'twere  close  at  hand 

Would  fail  to  gain  the  thing  his  heart  desires. 

The  form  unsightly  and  of  no  esteem 

It  makes  both  wise  of  speech  and  fair  to  see  : 

It  only  has  the  power  of  joy  or  grief, 

It  only  knows  the  art  of  hiding  ill. 

162 

A  pleasant  ill  is  this  disease  of  love, 

And  'twere  not  ill  to  sketch  its  likeness  thus : 

When  sharp  cold  spreads  through  all  the  asther  clear, 

And  children  seize  a  crystal  icicle, 

At  first  they  firmly  hold  their  new-found  joy  ; 

But  in  the  end  the  melting  mass  nor  cares 

To  slip  away,  nor  is  it  good  to  keep  : 

So  those  that  love,  the  self-same  strong  desire 

Now  leads  to  action,  now  to  idleness. 

202 

What  virtue  gains  alone  abides  with  us. 

203 
The  hearts  of  good  men  are  not  quickly  bowed. 

204 

Still  where  the  right  of  free,  true  speech  is  gone, 
And  the  worse  counsel  in  a  state  prevails, 
Blunders  make  shipwreck  of  security. 

205 

And  how  can  I,  a  mortal,  fight  with  fate 
That  comes  from  heaven,  when  danger  presses  hard, 
And  hope  helps  not  ? 

163 


FRAGMENTS 

206 
'Since  age  is  on  thee,  keep  (  £s  fair  ^Putc- 

O  *     «.*-w-j^       \        *******      A«r*l     ^VXAAJ 


209 

The  tongue  is  held  in  honour  by  such  men 
As  reckon  words  of  more  account  than  deeds. 

235 

Come,  let  us  quickly  go  :  it  cannot  be 
That  any  blame  should  fall  on  righteous  haste. 

236 

It  brings  some  pain,  I  know,  but  one  must  try, 
As  best  one  may,  to  bear  the  ills  of  life. 
Needs  must  we  find  some  healing  from  these  things. 

237 

Some  pleasure  is  there  found  even  in  words, 
When  with  them  comes  forgetfulness  of  ills. 

238 

Though  I  be  old,  yet  with  advance  of  age 
Comes  reason's  growth,  and  skill  to  counsel  well. 

239 

There  stretcheth  by  the  sea 
A  fair  Eubcean  shore,  and  o'er  it  creeps 
The  vine  of  Bacchos,  each  day's  growth  complete. 
In  morning  brightness  all  the  land  is  green 
With  tendrils  fair  and  spreading.     Noontide  comes, 
And  then  the  unripe  cluster  forms  apace  : 
The  day  declines,  and  purple  grow  the  grapes ; 
At  eve  the  whole  bright  vintage  is  brought  in, 
And  the  mixed  wine  poured  out. 
164 


FRAGMENTS 

255 

I  own  it  true.     Right  well  the  proverb  runs, 
That  smallest  things  make  known  a  man's  true  bent. 

284 

Wherefore  conceal  thou  nothing.     Time  that  sees 
And  heareth  all  things  bringeth  all  to  light. 

288 

No  good  e'er  comes  of  leisure  purposeless  ; 
And  Heaven  ne'er  helps  the  men  who  will  not  act. 

298 

'Tis  only  in  God's  garden  men  may  reap 
True  joy  and  blessing. 

302 
Chance  never  helps  the  men  who  do  not  work. 


He  who  neglects  the  Muses  in  his  youth 
Has  wasted  all  the  past,  and  lost  true  life 
For  all  the  future. 

311 

A  mortal  man  should  think  things  fit  for  men. 

321 

This  is  most  grievous,  when  it  might  be  ours 
To  set  things  straight,  and  we  by  our  own  act 
Will  bring  fresh  woe  and  trouble  on  our  heads. 

322 

But  he  who  dares  to  look  at  danger  straight, 
His  speech  is  clear,  his  spirit  falters  not. 
165 


FRAGMENTS 

323 

It  is  not  good  to  lie ;  but  when  the  truth 
Brings  on  a  man  destruction  terrible, 
He  may  be  pardoned  though  not  good  his  speech. 

325 

And  wonder  not,  O  prince,  that  thus  I  cling 
So  close  to  gain  ;  for  they  whose  life  is  long 
Still  cleave  to  profit  with  their  might  and  main, 
And  men  count  all  things  else  as  less  than  wealth  ; 
And  though  there  be  that  praise  a  life  kept  free 
From  all  disease,  to  me  no  poor  man  seems 
In  that  blest  state,  but  sick  continually. 

326 

The  noblest  life  is  that  of  righteousness  ; 
The  best,  one  free  from  sickness  ;  sweetest  far 
To  have  each  day  the  fill  of  all  we  wish. 

342 

Now  in  the  gates  ^Eneas,  Goddess-born, 
Is  seen,  and  on  his  shoulders  bears  his  sire, 
Who  lets  his  byssine  mantle  fall  in  folds 
On  back  where  smote  the  fiery  levin-flash, 
And  gathers  round  him  all  his  band  of  slaves  ; 
Beyond  all  hope,  the  multitude  draws  near 
Of  Phrygians  who  would  fain  be  emigrants. 

343 
But  little  count  we  make  of  toil  gone  by. 

358 

For  those  who  fare  but  ill  'tis  very  sweet 
E'en  for  a  moment  to  forget  their  ills. 

359 

None  has  no  sorrow  ;  happiest  who  has  least. 
166 


FRAGMENTS 

379 

He1  'twas  that  taught  the  Argive  army  first 
To  build  their  walls,  and  found  inventions  strange 
Of  measures,  weights,  and  numbers  ;  he  the  first 
To  plan  the  ten  that  upward  rise  from  one, 
And  from  the  tens  to  fifties  pass,  and  so 
From  thence  to  thousands.     He  alone  devised 
The  army's  beacon-lights  and  nightly  watch, 
And  signals  of  the  morning,  and  made  clear 
What  he  did  not  devise.     He  brought  to  sight 
The  measures  and  the  motions  of  the  stars, 
And  all  their  order,  and  the  heavenly  signs, 
And  for  the  men  who  guide  their  ships  on  sea, 
The  Great  Bear's  circle,  and  the  Dog's  cold  setting. 

380 

Did  he  not  drive  away  the  famine  from  them  ; 
And,  with  God's  help,  discover  pastimes  wise, 
As  they  sat  down,  after  long  toil  at  sea — 
Draughts,  and  dice  too,  sweet  help  for  idleness  ? 

419 

But  when  an  oath  is  added,  then  the  soul 
Is  made  more  careful,  having  then  to  shun 
Both  blame  of  friends  and  sin  against  the  Gods, 

434 
The  aged  man  becomes  a  child  again. 

436 
'Tis  better  not  to  be  than  vilely  live. 

498 
War  ever  takes  our  young  men  in  its  net. 

1  Palamedes. 


FRAGMENTS 

499 

A  weary  life  is  that  the  sailors  lead, 
To  whom  no  gift  from  Heaven  or  Fortune  sent 
Could  offer  worthy  recompense.     Poor  souls, 
Adventuring  traffic  far  on  slender  chance, 
They  save,  or  gain,  or  lose  all  utterly. 

500 

All  evil  things  are  found  in  length  of  years; 
Sense  gone,  work  useless,  thoughts  and  counsels  vain. 

501 

If  men  by  tears  could  heal  their  several  ills, 
And  by  their  weeping  bring  the  dead  to  life, 
Then  gold  would  be  of  far  less  price  than  tears. 

512 

Greedy  of  gain  is  every  barbarous  tribe. 

513 

Be  not  afraid  :  speak  thou  the  truth,  and  then 
Thou  shalt  not  fail. 

5H 

What  man  soe'er,  in  troubles  waxing  wroth, 
Will  use  a  cure  that 's  worse  than  the  disease, 
Is  no  physician  skilled  to  deal  with  grief. 

517 

I  by  myself  am  nought ;  yea,  oftentimes 
So  look  I  upon  all  our  womankind, 
That  we  are  nothing.     Young,  we  lead  a  life 
Of  all  most  joyous,  in  our  father's  house, 
For  want  of  knowledge  is  our  kindly  nurse ; 
But  when  we  come  to  marriageable  years, 
Then  are  we  pushed  and  bartered  for  away 

1 68 


FRAGMENTS 

From  household  gods  and  from  our  parents  dear — 
Some  unto  alien  husbands,  some  to  men 
Of  stranger  race,  and  some  to  homes  full  strange, 
Or  full  of  turmoil :  and  when  one  night  binds  us, 
We  needs  must  bear,  and  think  of  it  as  right. 

518 

Among  mankind  we  all  are  born  alike 
Of  father  and  of  mother.     None  excels 
Another  in  his  nature,  but  the  fate 
Of  evil  chance  holds  some  of  us,  and  some 
Good  fortune  favours,  and  necessity 
Holds  some  in  bondage. 

520 
Praise  no  man  much  until  thou  see  his  death. 

535 

Within  the  tablets  of  thy  mind  write  this 
That  I  have  said  to  thee. 

563 

Well,  well,  what  greater  joy  could'st  thou  receive 
Than  touching  land,  and  then,  beneath  a  roof, 
With  slumbering  mind  to  hear  the  pelting  storm  ? 

572 

We  should  not  speak  of  one  that  prospers  well 
As  happy,  till  his  life  have  run  its  course, 
And  reached  its  goal.     An  evil  spirit's  gift 
In  shortest  time  has  oft  laid  low  the  state 
Of  one  full  rich  in  great  prosperity, 
When  the  change  comes,  and  so  the  Gods  appoint. 

582 

No  one  who  sins  against  his  will  is  base. 
169 


FRAGMENTS 

585 

Tell  not  to  many  what  Fate  sends  on  thee : 
'Tis  comelier  far  in  silence  to  lament. 

588 

I  mourn  for  those  my  locks  as  young  marc  doth, 
Who,  caught  by  shepherds,  in  the  stable  stands, 
And  with  rough  hands  has  all  her  chestnut  mane 
Cropped  off,  and  then  is  led  in  meadow  fair, 
Which  clear  streams  water,  and  when  thus  she  sees 
Her  likeness,  with  her  hair  thus  foully  cropped, 
Ah,  one  hard-hearted  w«ll  might  pity  her, 
Crouching  in  shame,  as  maddened  with  disgrace, 
Mourning  and  weeping  o'er  the  mane  that  's  gone. 

606 

Ne'er  can  a  state  be  well  and  safely  ruled, 
In  which  all  justice  and  all  purity 
Are  trampled  under  foot,  and  brawling  knave 
With  cruel  goad  drives  the  poor  state  to  death. 

607 

Not  mortal  men  alone  does  Love  assail, 
No,  nor  yet  women,  but  it  leaves  its  stamp 
Upon  the  souls  of  Gods,  and  passes  on 
To  mighty  ocean.     Zeus  omnipotent 
Is  powerless  to  avert  it,  and  submits 
And  yields  full  willingly. 

608 

No  greater  evil  can  a  man  endure 
Than  a  bad  wife,  nor  find  a  greater  good 
Than  one  both  good  and  wise ;  and  each  man  speaks 
As  judging  by  the  experience  of  his  life. 

609 
Forgive  me,  and  be  silent,  patiently; 


FRAGMENTS 

For  that  which  to  us  women  bringeth  shame 
One  ought  in  women's  presence  to  conceal. 

610 

Would'st  thou  count  up  the  roll  of  happy  men, 
Thou  shalt  not  find  one  mortal  truly  blest. 

611 

Ah,  women  !  no  one  can  escape  disgrace 

On  whom  Zeus  sendeth  ills  in  armed  array  ; 

And  heaven-sent  plagues  we  still  must  bear  perforce. 

612 
Sons  are  the  anchors  of  a  mother's  life. 

622 

Thou  art  but  young ;  and  thou  hast  much  to  learn, 
And  many  things  to  hear  and  understand  : 
Seek  still  to  add  fresh  knowledge  profitable. 

626 
Death  comes,  the  last  great  healer  of  all  ills. 

649 

Ah,  boy  !  'tis  just  the  noble  and  the  good 
That  Ares  loves  to  slay.     The  bold  in  tongue, 
Shunning  all  pain,  are  out  of  danger's  reach ; 
For  Ares  careth  not  for  coward  souls. 

657 
Time,  stripping  off  the  veil,  brings  all  to  light. 

658 

Time,  even  Time,  in  all  the  vast  expanse 

Of  this  our  human  life, 
Finds  plenteous  wisdom  for  the  souls  that  seek. 


FRAGMENTS 

659 

But  when  the  Gods  would  hide  the  things  of  heaven, 
Thou  can'st  not  learn,  although  thou  travel  far. 

660 
One  wise  man  is  no  match  for  many  fools. 

661 
A  good  man  still  will  succour  the  distressed. 

662 
True  wisdom  ranks  among  the  Gods  most  high. 

663 

They  that  fare  ill  become  not  only  deaf, 
But,  even  though  they  gaze,  they  see  not  clear 
What  lies  before  them. 

Sore  evil  still,  and  all  unmanageable, 

Is  want  of  knowledge.     Folly  proves  itself 

Of  wickedness  true  sister. 

664 
We  cannot  speak  good  words  of  deeds  not  good. 

665 
We  should  not  joy  in  pleasures  that  bring  shame. 

666 
Fortune  ne'er  helps  the  man  whose  courage  fails. 

667 

Shame  brings  but  little  help  in  evil  things ; 
Your  silence  is  the  talker's  best  ally. 
'72 


FRAGMENTS 

668 

What  means  this  praise  r     The  man  who  yields  to  wine 
Is  void  of  understanding,  slave  to  wrath, 
And  wont,  though  babbling  many  words  and  vain, 
To  hear  full  loth  what  eagerly  he  spoke. 

669 

When  one  is  found  as  taken  in  the  act 
Of  fraud  and  wrong,  whate'er  his  skill  of  speech, 
The  only  course  for  him  is  silence  then ; 
Yet  that  is  hard  to  bear  for  one  who  feels 
Conscious  of  innocence. 

670 

In  vows,  forsooth,  a  woman  shuns  the  pangs 
And  pains  of  childbirth  ;  but  the  evil  o'er, 
Once  more  she  comes  within  the  self-same  net, 
O'ercome  by  that  strong  passion  of  her  soul. 

671 
No  oath  weighs  aught  on  one  of  scoundrel  soul. 

672 
When  trouble  ceases  e'en  our  troubles  please. 

674 

Where  fathers  are  by  children  overcome, 
That  is  no  city  of  the  wise  and  good, 

'Tis  best,  where'er  we  are,  to  follow  still 
The  customs  of  the  country. 

675 

He  to  whom  men  pay  honour's  noble  meed 
Has  need  of  noble  deeds  innumerable, 
And  out  of  easy  conflict  there  can  come 
But  little  glory. 


FRAGMENTS 

676 
Counsels  are  mightier  things  than  strength  of  hands, 

677 
My  body  is  enslaved,  my  mind  is  free. 

678 

Not  Kyprian  only,  children,  is  she  called, 
Who  rules  o'er  Kypros,  but  bears  many  names. 
Hades  is  she,  and  Might  imperishable, 
And  raving  Madness,  and  untamed  Desire, 
And  bitter  Lamentation.     All  is  hers, 
Or  earnest,  or  in  calm,  or  passionate  ; 
For  still  where'er  is  life  she  winds  within 
The  inmost  heart.     Where  finds  this  Goddess  not 
Her  easy  prey  ?     She  masters  all  the  tribe 
Of  fish  that  swim  the  waters,  she  prevails 
O'er  all  four-footed  beasts  that  walk  the  earth. 
Her  wing  directs  the  course  of  wandering  birds, 
Mighty  o'er  beasts,  and  men,  and  Gods  above. 
What  God  in  wrestling  throws  she  not  thrice  o'er  ? 
Yea,  if  'twere  lawful  to  speak  all  the  truth, 
She  sways  the  breast  of  Zeus.     All  weaponless, 
Without  or  spear  or  sword,  the  Kyprian  queen 
Cuts  short  the  schemes  of  mortals  or  of  Gods. 

679 

What  house  hath  ever  gained  prosperity, 

How  swoln  soe'er  with  pride,  without  the  grace 

Of  woman's  nobler  nature. 

680 

But  when  bereavement  falls  upon  her  house, 
A  woman  has  the  purpose  of  a  man. 

68 1 

No  small  disease  is  poverty  for  those 
174 


FRAGMENTS 

Who  boast  of  wealth  ;  than  poverty  no  foe 
Is  found  more  hostile. 

682 

O  race  of  mortal  men  oppressed  with  care  ! 
What  nothings  are  we,  like  to  shadows  vain, 
Cumbering  the  ground,  and  wandering  to  and  fro  ! 

683 
None  but  the  Gods  may  live  untouched  by  ill. 

684 

O  God,  we  mortals  find  no  way  to  flee 
From  evils  deeply-rooted,  sent  from  Heaven. 

685 

Would  one  might  live,  and  give  the  present  hour 
Its  fill  of  pleasure,  while  the  future  creeps 
For  ever  unforeseen. 

686 

The  skilful  gamester  still  should  make  the  best 
Of  any  throw,  and  not  bemoan  his  luck. 

687 
Tis  hope  that  feeds  the  larger  half  of  men. 

688 

Ne'er  can  the  wise  grow  old,  in  whom  there  dwells 
A  soul  sustained  with  light  of  Heaven's  own  day  : 
Great  gain  to  men  is  forethought  such  as  theirs. 

689 

He  who  in  midst  of  woes  desireth  life, 
Is  either  coward  or  insensible. 

690 

A.  Now  he  is  dead,  I  yearn  to  die  with  him. 

B .  Why  such  hot  haste  ?  Thou  needs  must  meet  thy  fate. 

«7S 


FRAGMENTS 

69, 
Truth  evermore  surpasseth  words  in  might. 

694 
A  woman's  oaths  I  write  upon  the  waves. 

701 

To  drink  against  one's  will 
Is  not  less  evil  than  unwilling  thirst. 

702 

If  thou  should'st  bring  all  wisdom  of  the  wise 
To  one  who  thirsts,  thou  could'st  not  please  him  more 
Than  giving  him  to  drink. 

703 

Most  basely  wilt  thou  die  by  doom  of  Heaven, 
Who,  being  as  thou  art,  dost  still  drain  off 
Thy  pottle-deep  potations. 

70S 

This  wanton  insolence 
Is  never  brought  to  self-control  in  youth, 
But  still  among  the  young  bursts  out,  and  then 
Tames  down  and  withers. 

707 

I  know  that  God  is  ever  such  as  this, 
Darkly  disclosing  counsels  to  the  wise  ; 
But  to  the  simple,  speaking  fewest  words, 
Plain  teacher  found. 

709 

Thou  shall  find  a  God 
Who  knoweth  not  or  charity  or  grace, 
But  loves  strict  justice,  that  and  that  alone. 
176 


FRAGMENTS 

711 

Whoso  will  enter  in  a  monarch's  house 

Is  but  his  bond-slave,  though  he  come  as  free. 

713 

In  many  a  turning  of  the  wheel  of  God 
My  fate  revolves  and  changes  all  its  mood ; 
E'en  as  the  moon's  face  never  keepeth  still 
For  but  two  nights  in  one  position  fixed, 
But  from  its  hiding-place  first  comes  as  new, 
With  brightening  face,  and  thenceforth  waxeth  full 
And  when  it  gains  its  noblest  phase  of  all, 
Wanes  off  again,  and  comes  to  nothingness. 

7H 
Counsel  of  evil  travelleth  all  too  quick. 

7|5 

If  any  man  beginneth  all  things  well, 
The  chances  are  his  ends  agree  thereto. 

717 
Words  that  are  false  bring  forth  no  fruit  at  all. 

718 
Though  one  be  poor,  his  fame  may  yet  stand  high. 

Not  one  whit  worse  the  poor  whose  heart  is  wise. 

What  profit  is  there  from  our  many  goods, 

If  care,  with  evil  thoughts, 
Is  still  the  nurse  of  fair  prosperity  ? 

719 

Thrice  happy  they,  who,  having  seen  these  rites, 
Then  pass  to  Hades :  there  to  these  alone 
Is  granted  life,  all  others  evil  find. 

II  177  M 


FRAGMENTS 

723 

What  may  be  taught  I  learn  ;  what  may  be  found 
That  I  still  seek  for ;  what  must  come  by  prayer, 
For  that  I  asked  the  Gods. 

7H 

Go  forth,  ye  people  strong  of  hand,  to  work, 
Who  with  your  balanced  baskets  of  first-fruits 
Worship  the  Working  Goddess,  child  of  Zeus, 
Whose  eyes  are  dread  to  look  on. 

725 

And  dost  thou  mourn  the  death  of  mortal  man, 
Not  knowing  if  the  future  bringeth  gain  f 

727 

Thou  waxest  wanton,  like  a  high-fed  colt ; 
For  maw  and  mouth  are  glutted  with  excess. 

732 

Searching  out  all  things,  thou  in  most  men's  acts 
Wilt  find  but  baseness. 

739 
Unlooked-for  things  must  once  for  all  begin. 

74« 

Those  who  lose  such  friends  lose  them  to  their  joy, 
And  they  who  have  them  for  deliverance  pray. 

749 

This  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  what  the  Gods 
Shall  give,  we  men,  my  child,  should  never  shun. 

762 

An  old  man's  wrath  is  like  ill-tempered  scythe, 
Sharp  to  begin,  but  quickly  blunted  off. 

178 


FRAGMENTS 

763 
The  dice  of  Zeus  have  ever  lucky  throws. 

772 

Be  pitiful,  O  Sun, 

Whom  the  wise  name  as  father  of  the  Gods, 
Author  of  all  things. 

779 

Since  we  have  rightly  made  our  prayer  to  God, 
Let  us  now  go,  O  boys,  to  where  the  wise 
Impart  their  knowledge  of  the  Muses'  arts. 
Each  day  we  need  to  take  some  forward  step, 
Till  we  gain  power  to  study  nobler  things. 
Evil  a  boy  will  learn  without  a  guide, 
With  little  labour,  learning  from  himself; 
But  good,  not  even  with  his  teacher  near, 
Dwells  in  his  soul,  but  is  full  hardly  gained  : 
Let  us  then,  boys,  be  watchful,  and  work  hard, 
Lest  we  should  seem  with  men  untaught  to  ran« 
The  children  of  a  father  far  from  home. 

780 

The  gratitude  of  one  whose  memory  fail* 
Is  quickly  gone. 


RHYMED  CHORAL  ODES 

AND 

LYRICAL   DIALOGUES 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 
151-215 
STROPHE  I 

WHAT  wert  them,  O  thou  voice 

Of  Zeus,  thou  bad'st  rejoice, 
Floating  to  Thebes  from  Pytho  gold-abounding  I 

I  tremble  ;  every  sense 

Thrills  with  the  dread  suspense  ; 
(O  Delian  Paean,  hear  our  cries  resounding  !) 

My  soul  is  filled  with  fears, 

What  thou  wilt  work  on  earth, 

Or  now  or  in  the  circling  years ; — 
Speak,  child  of  golden  Hope,  thou  Voice  of  heavenly  birth  ! 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Athena,  first  of  all, 

Thee,  child  of  Zeus,  I  call, 
And  Artemis  thy  sister  with  us  dwelling, 

Whom,  on  her  glorious  throne, 

Our  agora  doth  own, 
And  Phcebos  in  the  archer's  skill  excelling  ; 

Come,  O  ye  Guardians  three, 

If  e'er  in  days  of  yore 
Ye  bade  the  tide  of  evil  flee, 
Drive  off  this  fiery  woe  as  once  ye  drove  before. 

STROPHE  II 

Yea  come  ;  for  lo  !   I  fail 
To  tell  my  woes'  vast  tale  ; 
For  all  my  host  in  fear  and  sickness  languish, 
183 


OEDIPUS  THE   KING 

And  weapons  fail  each  mind  ; 

For  the  earth's  increase  kind 
Is  gone,  and  women  faint  in  childbirth's  anguish  : 

Thou  see'st  men,  one  by  one, 

Like  bird  of  fleetest  wing, 
Swifter  than  flashing  ray  of  sun, 
Pass  to  His  gloomy  shore  who  reigns  of  darkness  King. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Countless  the  spoil  of  death  ; 

Our  city  perisheth, 
And  on  the  tainted  earth  our  infants  lie  ; 

The  tender  heart  is  cold, 

And  wives  and  matrons  old, 
Now  here,  now  there,  by  every  altar  cry. 

And  clear  the  Paeans  gleam, 

And  chants  of  sorrow  born  ; 
O  golden  child  of  Zeus  supreme, 
Put  forth  thy  power  to  help,  bright-eyed  as  is  the  morn  ! 

STROPHE  III 

And  Ares,  mighty  One, 

Who  weaponless  comes  on, 
And  fierce  and  hot  with  battle-cry  assaileth, — 

Bid  him  in  flight  to  tread 

By  Amphitrite's  bed, 
Or  Thrakia's  homeless  coast  where  wild  wave  waileth. 

If  aught  is  spared  by  night, 

It  droops  before  the  day  ; 

O  Thou  who  wield'st  the  lightning's  blazing  might, 
O  Zeus  our  Father,  dart  thy  thunder  him  to  slay  ! 

ANTISTROPHE  III 
And  oh  !   Lykeian  king, 
That  from  thy  gold-wrought  string 
Thy  arrows  might  go  forth  in  strength  excelling  ; 
184 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

And  all  the  flashing  rays 
That  Artemis  displays, 

Who  on  the  Lykian  mountains  hath  her  dwelling  ! 
Thee,  Bacchos,  I  invoke, 
Whose  name  our  land  hath  borne, 
Come,  wine-flushed,  gold-crowned,  Maenad-girt, 

with  smoke 
Of  blazing  torch  against  that  God,  of  Gods  the  scorn, 

462-5 1 1 
STROPHE  I 
Who  was  it  that  the  rock  of  Delphos  named, 

In  speech  oracular, 
That  wrought  with  bloody  hands  his  deeds  dark-shamed  ? 

Well  may  he  wander  far, 
With  footstep  swifter  and  more  strong 
Than  wind-winged  steed  that  flies  along  ; 
For  on  him  leaps,  in  Heaven's  own  panoply, 
With  fire  and  flash,  the  son  of  Zeus  most  High, 

And  with  Him,  dread  and  fell, 
The  dark  Fates  follow,  irresistible. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
For  'twas  but  now  from  out  the  snowy  height 

Of  old  Parnassos  shone 
The  Voice  that  bade  us  all  to  bring  to  light 

The  unknown  guilty  one  ; 
Each  forest  wild,  each  rocky  shore, 
Like  untamed  bull,  he  wanders  o'er, 
In  dreary  loneliness  with  dreary  tread, 
Seeking  to  shun  dark  oracles  and  dread, 
From  Delphi's  central  shrine  ; 
And  yet  they  hover  round  with  life  and  strength  divine. 

STROPHE  II 

Dread  things,  yea,  dread  the  augur  wise  hath  stirred  : 
I  know  not  or  to  answer  Aye,  or  No  ; 
185 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

In  vain,  perplexed,  I  seek  the  fitting  word, 

And  lost  in  fears  nor  past  nor  future  know  : 

What  cause  of  strife  so  fell 
Between  the  son  of  Polybos  hath  come, 
And  those,  the  heirs  of  old  Labdakid  home, 
I  have  found  none  to  tell  : 
From  none  comes  well-tried  word, 
That  I  should  war  against  the  glory  great 

OfQEdipus  my  lord, 
Or  make  myself  the  avenger  of  an  unknown  fate. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
Yet  Zeus  and  King  Apollo,  they  are  wise, 

And  know  the  secret  things  that  mortals  do ; 
But  that  a  prophet  sees  with  clearer  eyes 

Than  these  I  see  with,  is  no  judgment  true. 

Though  one  in  wisdom  high 
May  wisdom  of  another  far  excel ; 
Yet  I,  until  I  see  it  'stablished  well, 
Will  ne'er  take  up  the  cry  : 
One  thing  is  clear,  she  came, 
The  winged  maiden, — and  men  found  him  wise  : 

Our  city  hailed  his  name, 

And  from  my  heart  the  charge  of  baseness  ne'er  shall 
rise. 

863-910 

STROPHE  I 

Would  'twere  my  lot  to  lead 
My  life  in  holiest  purity  of  speech, 

In  purity  of  deed, 
Of  deed  and  word  whose  Laws  high-soaring  reach 

Through  all  the  vast  concave, 
Heaven-born,  Olympos  their  one  only  sire  ! 

To  these  man  never  gave 
The  breath  of  life,  nor  shall  they  e'er  expire 
iS6 


CEDtPUS  THE    KING 

In  dim  oblivion  cold  : 
In  these  God  shews  as  great  and  never  waxeth  old. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

The  wantonness  of  pride 
Begets  the  tyrant, — wanton  pride,  full-flushed 

With  thoughts  vain,  idle,  wide, 
That  to  the  height  of  topmost  fame  hath  rushed, 

And  then  hath  fallen  low, 
Into  dark  evil  where  it  cannot  take 

One  step  from  out  that  woe. 
I  cannot  bid  the  Gods  this  order  break 

Of  toil  for  noblest  end  ; 
Yea,  still  I  call  on  God  as  guardian  and  as  friend. 

STROPHE  II 
But  if  there  be  who  walks  too  haughtily 

In  action  or  in  speech, 
Who  the  great  might  of  Justice  dares  defy, 

Whom  nought  can  reverence  teach, 
111  fate  be  his  for  that  his  ill-starred  scorn, 

Unless  he  choose  to  win 
Henceforth  the  gain  that  is  of  Justice  born, 

And  holds  aloof  from  sin, 
Nor  lays  rash  hand  on  things  inviolable. 

Who  now  will  strive  to  guard 
His  soul  against  the  darts  of  passion  fell  ? 

If  such  deeds  gain  reward, 

What  boots  it  yet  again 
In  choral  dance  to  chant  my  wonted  strain  ! 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

No  more  will  I  at  yonder  spot  divine, 
Earth's  centre,  kneeling  fall, 

In  Abac's  temple,  or  Olympia's  shrine, 
Unless,  in  sight  of  all, 
187 


CEDIPUS  THE   KING 

These  things  appear  as  tokens  clear  and  true. 

But  oh,  Thou  Lord  and  King, 
If  unto  Thee  that  name  be  rightly  due, 

Creation  governing, 
Let  it  not  'scape  Thee,  or  thy  deathless  might 

For  now  the  words  of  old 
To  Laios  uttered,  they  despise  and  slight ; 

Nor  does  Apollo  hold 

His  place  in  men's  esteem, 
And  things  divine  are  counted  as  a  dream. 

1186-1223 
STROPHE  I 

0  race  of  mortal  men, 

1  number  you  and  deem 
That  ye,  although  ye  live, 
Are  but  an  empty  dream. 

What  man,  yea,  what,  knows  more 
Of  happiness  and  peace, 
Than  just  the  idle  show, 
And  then  the  sure  decrease  ? 
Thy  face  as  pattern  given, 
O  CEdipus,  my  king, 
Thy  doom,  yea  thine,  I  say, 
I  know  of  none  I  count  as  truly  prospering. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Thou,  once  with  strange  success, 
As  archer  taking  aim, 
Did'st  hit  the  mark  in  all, 
Great  riches  and  great  fame  : 
And  did'st,  (O  Zeus  !)  lay  low 
The  maiden  skilled  in  song, 
The  monster  terrible, 
With  talons  crook'd  and  long. 

in 


CEDIPUS  THE    KING 

Thou  against  death  wast  seen 
Thy  country's  sure  defence  ; 
And  therefore  thou  art  king  ; 
To  thee  the  Lord  of  Thebes  we  all  our  homage  bring. 

STROPHE  II 

And  who  of  all  men  is  more  wretched  now  ? 
Who  dwells  with  woe  perpetually  as  thou, 

In  chance  and  change  of  life, 
O  OEdipus  renowned,  for  whom  was  won 
The  same  wide  haven,  sheltering  sire  and  son  ? 

Ah  how,  O  mother-wife, 
Could  that  defiled  bed,  when  he  had  come, 

Receive  him  and  be  dumb  ? 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Time,  the  all-seeing,  finds  thee  out  at  last, 
And  passes  sentence  on  the  hateful  past, 

The  wedlock  none  might  wed, 
Where  son  and  spouse  in  strange  confusion  met. 
Ah,  son  of  Laios,  would  I  could  forget ! 
In  one  true  word,  thy  succour  gave  me  breath, 

By  thee  I  sleep  in  death. 


•89 


OEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS. 

668-718 
STROPHE  I 

YES,  thou  art  come,  O  guest, 
Where  our  dear  land  is  brightest  of  the  bright, 

Land  in  its  good  steeds  blest, 
Our  home,  Colonos,  gleaming  fair  and  white, 
The  nightingale  still  haunteth  all  our  woods 

Green  with  the  flush  of  spring, 

And  sweet  melodious  floods 
Of  softest  song  through  grove  and  thicket  ring  ; 

She  dwelleth  in  the  shade 
Of  glossy  ivy,  dark  as  purpling  wine, 

And  the  untrodden  glade 
Of  trees  that  hang  their  myriad  fruit  divine, 

Unscathed  by  blast  of  storm  ; 
Here  Dionysos  finds  his  dear-  loved  home, 

Here,  revel-flushed,  his  form 
Is  wont  with  those  his  fair  nurse-nymphs  to  roam. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Here,  as  Heaven  drops  its  dew, 
Narcissus  grows  with  fair  bells  clustered  o'er, 

Wreath  to  the  Dread  Ones  due, 
The  Mighty  Goddesses  whom  we  adore  ; 
And  here  is  seen  the  crocus,  golden-eyed  ; 

The  sleepless  streams  ne'er  fail; 

Still  wandering  on  they  glide, 
And  clear  Kephisos  waters  all  the  vale ; 

Daily  each  night  and  morn 

It  winds  through  all  the  wide  and  fair  champaign, 
190 


(EDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

And  pours  its  flood  new-born 
From  the  clear  freshets  of  the  fallen  rain  ; 

The  Muses  scorn  it  not, 
But  here,  rejoicing,  their  high  feast-days  hold, 

And  here,  in  this  blest  spot, 
Dwells  Aphrodite  in  her  car  of  gold. 

STROPHE  II 

And  here  hath  grown  long  while 
A  marvel  and  a  wonder  such  as  ne'er 

I  heard  of  otherwhere, — 
Nor  in  great  Asia's  land  nor  Dorian  Isle 

That  Pelops  owned  as  his ; 

Full  great  this  marvel  is, — 
A  plant  unfailing,  native  to  the  place, 

Terror  to  every  sword 

Of  fierce  invading  horde, 
The  grey-green  Olive,  rearing  numerous  races 

Which  none  or  young  or  old 

Shall  smite  in  pride  o'erbold  ; 
For  still  the  orb  of  Zeus  that  all  things  sees 

Looks  on  it  from  on  high, 
Zeus,  the  great  guardian  of  our  olive-trees, 
And  she,  Athena,  with  grey  gleaming  eye. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

And  yet  another  praise, 
The  chiefest  boast  of  this  our  mother  state, 

My  tongue  must  now  relate, 
The  gift  of  that  great  God  who  ocean  sways ; — 

Of  this  our  native  ground 

The  greatest  glory  found, 
Its  goodly  steeds  and  goodly  colts  I  sing, 

And,  goodly  too,  its  sea  ; 

O  Son  of  Cronos,  Thee 

We  own,  Thou  great  Poseidon,  Lord  and  King, 
191 


CEDIPUS  AT  COLONOS 

For  thou  hast  made  it  ours 
To  boast  these  wondrous  dowers, 
First  in  our  city  did'st  first  on  horses  fleet 

Place  the  subduing  bit ; 

And  through  the  sea  the  oars  well-handled  flit, 
Following  the  Nereids  with  their  hundred  feet ! 

1044-1095 
STROPHE  I 

Fain  would  I  be  where  meet, 

In  brazen-throated  war, 
The  rush  of  foes  who  wheel  in  onset  fleet, 

Or  by  the  Pythian  shore, 
Or  where  the  waving  torches  gleam  afar, 

Where  the  Dread  Powers  watch  o'er 
Their  mystic  rites  for  men  that  mortal  are, 

E'en  they  whose  golden  key 
Hath  touched  the  tongue  of  priests,  Eumolpidae  : 
There,  there,  I  deem,  our  Theseus  leads  the  fight, 
And  those  two  sisters,  dauntless,  undismayed, 
Will  meet,  with  eager  clamour  of  delight 

That  nothing  leaves  unsaid, 

Where  through  these  lands  they  tread. 
ANTISTROPHE  I 

Or  do  they  now,  perchance, 

On  to  the  western  slope 
Of  old  CEatis'  snowy  crest  advance, 

Hastening  on  swiftest  steed, 
Or  in  swift  chariots  each  with  other  cope  ? 

Now  will  be  spoil  indeed : 
Dread  is  their  might  who  form  our  country's  hope, 

And  dread  the  strength  of  those 
Whom  Theseus  leads  to  triumph  o'er  their  foes. 
Each  bit  is  glittering,  all  the  squadrons  speed ; 
Shaking  their  reins,  they  urge  their  horses  on, 
E'en  they  who  serve  Athena  on  her  steed, 
192 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Or  Rhea's  ocean  Son, 

Who  makes  the  earth  his  throne. 

STROPHE  II 

Act  they,  or  linger  still  ? 
Ah,  how  my  soul  forecasts  the  coming  fate, 

That  he,  against  his  will, 
Will  yield  the  maid  whose  daring  has  been  great, 

Who  hath  borne  greatest  ill 
From  hands  of  her  own  kin  ;  but,  soon  or  late, 

Zeus  works  to-day  great  things: 
I  prophesy  of  glorious  victories. 

Ah  !   would  that  I  on  wings, 
Swift  as  a  dove  on  airy  cloud  that  flies, 

Might  glad  my  longing  eye 
With  sight  of  that  much  yearned-for  victory ! 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

O  Zeus !   that  reign'st  on  high, 
All-seeing,  grant  the  rulers  of  our  land, 

In  strength  of  victory, 
VVith  good  success  in  ambush  there  to  stand; 

And  Thou,  his  child  revered, 
Athena  Pallas ;  Thou,  the  huntsman-God, 

Apollo,  loved  and  feared. 
And  she,  thy  sister,  who  the  woods  hath  trod 

Following  the  dappled  deer 
Swift-footed  ;  lo  !   on  each  of  you  I  call, — 

Come,  bringing  succour  near 
To  this  our  land,  and  to  its  people  all. 

1211-1248 

STROPHE 
One  whose  desire  is  strong 

For  length  of  days, 
n  193  H 


CEDIPUS  AT   COLONOS 

Who  slights  the  middle  path, 

True  path  of  praise  ; 
He  in  my  eyes  shall  seem 

Mere  dreamer  vain ; 
Forofttimes  length  of  days 

Brings  nought  but  pain  ; 
And  joys— thou  can'st  not  now 

Their  dwelling  guess, 
When  once  a  man  gives  way 

To  hope's  excess  ; 
At  last  the  helper  comes 

That  comes  to  all, 
When  Hades'  doom  appears 

And  dark  shades  fall  ; 
Lyreless  and  songless  then, 

No  wedding  guest, 
Death  comes  to  work  the  end, 

Death,  last  and  best. 


ANTISTROPHE 

Never  to  be  at  all, 

Excels  all  fame  ; 
Quickly,  next  best,  to  pass 

From  whence  we  came. 
When  youth  hath  passed  away, 

With  follies  vain, 
Who  then  is  free  from  cares  ? 

Where  is  not  pain  ? 
Murders  and  strifes  and  wars, 

Envy  and  hate  ; 
Then,  evil  worst  of  all, 

The  old  man's  fate  : 
Powerless  and  wayward  then, 

No  friend  to  cheer, — 
'94 


OEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

All  ills  on  ills  are  met, 
All  dwelling  there. 

EPODE 
Thus  this  poor  sufferer  lives, 

Not  I  alone ; 
As  on  far  northern  coast 

Wild  waters  moan, 
So  without  rest  or  hope, 

Woes  round  him  swarm, 
Dread  as  the  waves  that  rage, 

Dark  as  the  storm, — 
Some  from  the  far,  far  west 

Where  sunsets  glow  ; 
Some  where  through  eastern  skiw 

Dawn's  bright  rays  flow  ; 
These  where  the  burning  south 

Feels  the  hot  light, 
Those  where  Rhi paean  hills 

Rise  in  dark  night. 

1447-1456 
STROPHE 

New  sorrows  throng  on  me, 
From  new  source  come, 
New  evils  from  this  blind  man's  misery, 

This  stranger  to  our  home ; 
Unless  it  be  that  Destiny  has  brought 

What  shall  at  last  prevail ; 
For  lo  !  I  dare  not  say  that  any  thought 

Of  the  high  Gods  shall  fail. 
Time  ever  sees  these  things,  beholds  them  all, 

Bringing  full  round  his  wheel, 
Upraising  in  a  day  the  things  that  fall  : — * 

O  Zeus !   that  thunder-peal  ! 
'95 


CEDIPUS   AT  COLONOS 

1463-1471 
ANTISTROPHE 

Lo  !   the  loud  thunder  sweeps, 

Heaven-sent  and  dread ; 
And  panic  terror  through  each  white  hair  creeps 

That  crowns  my  aged  head ; 
I  shudder  in  my  soul,  for  yet  again 

The  flashing  lightning  gleams. 
What  shall  I  say?     What  issue  will  it  gain  ? 

Fear  fills  my  waking  dreams ; 
For  not  in  vain  do  all  these  portents  rise, 

Nor  void  of  end  foreknown  ; 
O  flashing  fire  that  blazest  through  the  skies ! 

O  Zeus,  the  Almighty  One  ! 

1477-1485 
STROPHE 

Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  again 
Resounds  the  ciash  that  pierces  in  its  might : 

Be  pitiful,  be  pitiful,  O  God  ! 
If  aught  thou  bringest  black  and  dark  as  night, 

To  this  our  mother  earth  : 
Yea,  may  I  still  find  favour  in  thy  sight 

Nor  gain  boon  little  worth 
Of  seeing  one  on  whom  all  curses  fall ! 

King  Zeus,  on  thee  I  call  ! 

ANTISTROPHE 

My  son,  come  on,  come  on, 
E'en  though  thou  dost  thy  sacred  station  keep 

There  on  the  valley's  edge, 
For  great  Poseidon,  Lord  of  Ocean  deep, 

For  now  the  stranger-guest 
His  thanks  on  thee  and  on  thy  state  would  heap, 

And  bless  thee,  being  blest. 
196 


CEDIPUS   AT   COLONOS 

Come  therefore  quickly ;  come,  O  Prince  and  King, 
And  timely  counsel  bring. 

1555-1578 

STROPHE 
If  right  it  be  with  prayers  and  litanies 

To  worship  Her  who  reigns, 

Goddess  in  darkness  clad, 

Or  Thee,  O  King  of  those 

Who  dwell  'neath  sunless  skies, 
Aidoneus,  O  Aidoneus,  I  implore  ! 
Grant  that  the  stranger  tread  the  darkling  plains, 
The  dwellings  of  the  dead  and  Stygian  shore, 

With  no  long  agony, 

No  voice  of  wailing  cry  ; 
For  so,  though  many  woes  unmerited 
Come  on  him,  God,  the  Just,  shall  yet  lift  up  his  head. 

ANTISTROPHE 

Ye  Goddesses  who  dwell  in  darkest  gloom, 

And  thou,  strange  form  and  dread, 

Monster  untamed  and  wild, 

Who  crouchest,  so  they  say, 

By  well-worn  gates  of  doom, 
And  barkest  from  thy  cavern,  warder  strong, 
In  Hades  (so  the  rumours  ever  spread ;) 
Grant  to  our  friend  clear  space  to  pass  along ; 

(O  Thou  who  owe'st  to  Earth 

And  Tartaros  thy  birth  !) 

There  where  he  nears  the  chambers  drear  and  dread  ; 
Thee  I  implore,  who  still  dost  sleep  a-»  sleep  the  dead 


ANTIGONE 

100-161 

STROPHE  I 

Ray  of  the  golden  sun, 

Fairest  of  all 
That  e'er  in  Thebes  have  lit 

Her  seven  gates  tall, 
Then  did'st  thou  shine  on  us, 

In  golden  gleams ; 
As  day's  bright  eye  did'st  come, 

O'er  Dirke's  streams, 
Driving  the  warrior  strong, 

With  snow-white  shield 
Who  had  from  Argos  come, 

Armed  for  the  field  : 
Him  Thou  did'st  put  to  flight, 

With  headlong  speed, 
Yea,  hurl  in  shameful  rout, 

Spurring  his  steed. 
Him  Polyneikes,  urged  by  quarrel  dread, 

Brought  to  our  land  a  foe  ; 
He  with  shrill  scream,  as  eagle  over-head, 

Hovered  with  wing  of  snow, 
With  many  armed  warriors,  shield  on  breast, 
And  helmet's  waving  crest. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
And  so  he  came  and  stood, 

In  fierce,  hot  hate, 
With  spears  that  slaughter  craved, 
Round  each  tall  gate. 
198 


ANTIGONE 

He  went,  his  jaws  unfilled 

With  blood  of  ours, 
Ere  pine-fed  blaze  had  seized 

Our  crown  of  towers. 
So  great  the  battle-din 

Around  his  rear, — 
The  crash,  that  Ares  loves, 

Of  shield  and  spear  : 
Hard  conflict  that  and  stiff 
For  well-matched  foe, 
The  dragon  fierce  who  fought 

And  laid  him  low. 
For  Zeus  the  lofty  speech  of  boastful  pride 

Hateth  exceedingly ; 
And  sees  them  as  they  flow  in  torrent  wide, 

Proud  of  gold  panoply, — 

With  fire  swift-flung  he  hurls  from  rampart  high 
One  who  shouts  "  Victory  !  " 

STROPHE  II 

So  smitten  down  he  fell 
Straight  to  the  echoing  earth, 
He  who,  with  torch  of  fire, 
And  mad  with  frenzied  mirth, 
Swooped  on  our  hearth  and  home 
With  blasts  of  bitter  hate. 
So  fared  they  ;  Ares  wroth 
To  each  brought  different  fate, 
And  so  appeared,  in  hour  of  greatest  need, 

Our  chariot's  worthiest  steed. 
For  seven  great  captains  at  our  seven  gates  stood, 
Equals  with  equals  matched,  and  left  their  arms 

Tribute  to  Zeus  on  high, — 
All  but  the  brothers,  hateful  in  their  mood, 
Who,  from  one  father  and  one  mother  born, 
Each  claiming  victory, 
199 


ANTIGONE 

Wielded  their  spears  in  murderous,  deadliest  hate, 
And  shared  one  common  fate. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

But  now  since  Victory  comes, 
Mighty  and  glorious  named, 
Giving  great  cause  of  joy 
To  Thebes  for  chariots  famed  ; 
Of  these  our  conflicts  past 
Learn  ye  forgetfulness, 
And  with  our  night-long  dance 
Around  each  temple  press  ; 
And  Bacchos,  making  Thebes  to  ring  again, 
Let  Him  begin  the  strain. 

But  now  the  prince  and  sovereign  of  our  land, 
Creon,  Mencekeus*  son,  with  counsels  new, 

Following  new  turns  of  fate, 
Comes,  having  matters  of  great  weight  in  hand  ; 
For  he  has  called  us  all  to  conference, 

The  elders  of  his  state, 
And  by  one  common  summons  for  us  sent, 

For  this  high  parliament. 

332-375 
STROPHE  I 

Many  the  things  that  strange  and  wondrous  are, 
None  stranger  and  more  wonderful  than  man  ; 

He  dares  to  wander  far, 
With  stormy  blast  across  the  hoary  sea, 

Where  nought  his  eye  can  scan 
But  waves  still  surging  round  unceasingly  ; 

And  Earth,  of  all  the  Gods, 
Mightiest,  unwearied,  indestructible, 
He  weareth  year  by  year,  and  breaks  her  clods, 
While  the  keen  plough-share  marks  its  furrows  well, 

Still  turning  to  and  fro  ; 


ANTIGONE 

And  still  he  bids  his  steeds 

Through  daily  taskwork  go. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

And  lo  !  with  snare  and  net  he  captives  makes 
Of  all  the  swift-winged  tribes  that  flit  through  air; 

Wild,  untamed  beasts  he  takes  ; 
And  many  a  sea-born  dweller  of  the  deep 

He  with  devices  rare 
Snares  in  his  mesh, — man,  wonderful  in  skill; 

And  all  brute  things  that  dwell 
In  forest  dark,  or  roam  upon  the  hill, 
He  by  his  craft  makes  subject  to  his  need, 
And  brings  upon  the  neck  of  rough-maned  steed 

The  yoke  that  makes  him  bend, 

And  binds  the  mountain  bull 

Resisting  to  the  end. 

STROPHE  II 

And  speech,  and  subtle  thought, 
Swift  as  the  wind, 

And  temper  duly  wrought 

To  statesman's  mind, — 
These  he  hath  learnt,  and  how  to  flee  the  power 

Of  cold  that  none  may  bear, 
And  all  the  tempest  darts  of  arrowy  shower 

That  hurtle  through  the  air : 
Armed  at  all  points,  unarmed  he  nought  shall  meet 

That  coming  time  reveals ; 
Only  from  Hades  finds  he  no  retreat, 
Though  many  a  sore  disease  that  hopeless   seemed  he 
heals. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

And  lo  !   with  all  this  skill, 

Beyond  hope's  dream, 
He  now  to  good  inclines 

And  now  to  ill  ; 


ANTIGONE 

Now  holding  fast  his  country's  ancient  laws, 

And  in  the  state's  esteem 
Most  honoured  ;  but  dishonoured,  should  he  cause 

The  thing  as  evil  known 
To  rule  his  heart  in  wantonness  of  pride  ; 

Ne'er  may  he  dwell  with  me, 
Nor  share  my  counsels,  prompting  at  my  side, 
Who  evil  deeds  like  this  still  works  perpetually  ! 

582-630 
STROPHE  I 
Ah  !  happy  are  the  souls  that  know  not  ill  ; 

For  they  whose  house  is  struck  by  wrath  divine, 
Find  that  no  sorrow  faileth,  creeping  still 

Through  long  descent  of  old  ancestral  line ; 
So  is  it  as  a  wave 
Of  ocean's  billowing  surge, 
(Where  Thrakian  storm-winds  rave, 
And  floods  of  darkness  from  the  depths  emerge,) 
Rolls  the  black  sand  from  out  the  lowest  deep, 
And  shores  re-echoing  wail,  as  rough  blastso'er  them  sweep. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Woes  upon  woes  fast  falling  on  the  race 
Of  Labdacos  that  faileth  still  I  see, 
Nor  can  one  age  for  that  which  comes  win  grace, 
But  still  some  God  hurls  all  to  misery  : 
All  power  to  heal  is  fled ; 
For  her,  the  one  faint  light, 
That  o'er  the  last  root  spread, 
And  in  the  house  of  CEdipus  was  bright, 
Now  doth  the  blood-stained  scythe  of  Gods  below 
Cut  down,  man's  frenzied  word  and  dread  Erinnys'  woe. 

STROPHE  II 

What  pride  of  man,  O  Zeus,  in  check  can  hold 
Thy  power  divine, 


ANTIGONE 

Which  nor  sleep  seizeth  that  makes  all  things  old, 
Nor  the  long  months  of  God  in  endless  line  ? 

Thou  grovv'st  not  old  with  time, 

But  ruling  in  thy  might, 
For  ever  dvvellest  in  thy  home  sublime, 
Olympos,  glittering  in  its  sheen  of  light : 

And  through  the  years'  long  tale, 

The  far  time  or  the  near, 

As  through  the  past,  this  law  shall  still  prevail : — 
Nought  comes  to  life  of  man  without  or  woe  or  fear. 

ANTISTROPHK  II 
For  unto  many  men  come  hopes  that  rove, 

Bringing  vain  joy, 

And  unto  many  cheats  of  blinded  love  ; 
Subtly  it  creeps  upon  the  unconscious  boy, 

Until  his  feet  wax  bold 

To  tempt  the  blazing  fire. 
For  wisely  was  it  said  by  one  of  old, 
True  speech,  far-famed,  for  all  men  to  admire, 

That  evil  seems  as  good 

To  him  whom  God  would  slay, 
Through  doom  of  evil  passion  in  the  blood  ; 
And  he  without  that  doom  scarce  passeth  e'en  a  day. 

781-881 

STROPHE  I 

O  Er6s,  irresistible  in  fight, 

Thou  rushest  on  thy  prey, 
Or  on  fair  maiden's  blushing  cheeks 

All  night  dost  lurking  stay  ; 
Over  the  sea  thou  roamest  evermore, 
Or  through  the  huts  of  shepherds  rough  and  poor: 
None  of  the  deathless  Ones  can  flee, 
Nor  mortal  men  escape  from  thee  ; 
And  mad  is  he  who  comes  beneath  thy  sway. 


ANTIGONE 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
Minds  of  the  righteous,  true  and  faithful  found 

Thou  turn'st  aside  to  ill, 
And  now  this  strife  of  nearest  kin 

Thou  stirrest  at  thy  will. 
Mighty  is  Love  in  glance  of  beauteous  bride, 
Enthroned  it  sits  with  great  laws  at  its  side ; 
And  One,  in  wondrous  might, 
Makes  merry  at  the  sight, 
The  Goddess  Aphrodite,  conquering  still. 
So  even  I  am  borne  along 

Beyond  the  bounds  that  law  uprears, 
And,  seeing  this,  am  no  more  strong 
To  stay  the  fountain  of  my  tears ; 
For  lo  !  Antigone  doth  tread 
The  path  to  that  wide  couch  where  slumber  all  the  dead. 

Antigone 
STROPHE  II 
Yes,  O  my  friends  and  countrymen,  ye  see 

How  I  my  last  path  tread, 
And  look  on  the  last  ray  of  brilliancy 

By  yonder  bright  sun  shed, — 
This  once,  but  never  more  ;  for  Hades  vast, 

Drear  home  of  all  the  dead, 
Leads  me,  in  life,  where  Acheron  flows  fast, 

Sharing  no  marriage  bed  : 
No  marriage  hymn  was  mine  in  all  the  past, 

But  Acheron  I  wed. 

Chorus 

And  dost  thou  not  depart, 

Glorious,  with  highest  praise, 
To  where  the  dead  are  gathered  in  the  gloom, 
Not  smitten  by  the  wasting  plague's  fell  dart, 

Nor  slain,  as  sharp  sword  slays  ? 


ANTIGONE 

But  free  and  living  still, 
Thou,  of  thine  own  free  will, 
Descendest  to  the  darkness  of  the  tomb. 

Antigone 
ANTISTROPHE  II 
I  heard  of  one,  the  child  of  Tantalos, 

The  Phrygian,  crushed  with  woes, 
And  there,  hard  by  the  crag  of  Sipylos, 

As  creeping  ivy  grows, 
So  crept  the  shoots  of  rock  o'er  life  and  breath  ; 

And,  as  the  rumour  goes, 
The  showers  ne'er  leave  her,  wasting  in  her  death, 

Nor  yet  the  drifting  snows ; 
From  weeping  brows  they  drip  on  rocks  beneath  ; 

Thus  God  my  life  o'erthrows. 

Chorus 
And  yet  a  Goddess  she,  of  birth  divine, 

And  we  frail  mortals,  and  of  mortal  race ; 

And  for  weak  woman  it  is  highest  grace 
That  fate  the  Gods  have  suffered  should  be  thine. 

Antigone 
STROPHE  III 
Alas  !  ye  mock  at  me  ; 

Why  thus  laugh  on  ? 
As  yet  I  still  live  here, 
Not  wholly  gone. 
O  fellow  citizens 

Of  city  treasure-stored  ! 
O  streams  of  Dirke's  brook  ! 

0  grove  of  Thebes  adored, 
Where  stand  the  chariots  fair  ! — 

1  bid  you  witness  give, 
How,  by  my  friends  unwept, 

I  pass  while  yet  I  live, 
105 


ANTIGONE 

To  yonder  heaped-up  mound  of  new-made  tomb : 

Ah,  miserable  me  ! 
Nor  dwelling  among  men,  nor  with  the  dead, 

Bearing  this  new,  drear  doom, 

Disowned  by  those  who  live,  and  those  whose  life  nath 
fled. 

CAorus 
Thou  hast  gone  far  in  boldness,  yea,  too  far, 

And  now  against  the  throne  of  Right  on  high, 
My  child,  thou  stumblest  in  thy  waywardness  ; 
Thou  fillest  up  thy  father's  misery. 

A n  tig one 
ANTISTROPHE  III 

Ah  !  there  thou  touchest  on 

My  bitterest  care, 
The  thrice-told  tale  of  woe 

My  sire  did  bear, 
The  fate  of  all  who  take 

From  Labdacos  their  name  ; 
Woes  of  my  mother's  bed  ! 

Embrace  of  foulest  shame, 
Mother's  and  son's,  whence  I 

(O  misery  !)  was  born  ; 
Whom  now  I  go  to  meet, 

Unwed,  accursed,  forlorn. 
Ah,  brother  !   thou,  in  evil  wedlock  wed, 

Hast,  in  that  death  of  thine, 
Made  me,  who  still  survived,  as  numbered  with  the  dead. 

Chorus 
Holy  it  may  be,  holy  awe  to  shew, 

But  power  with  him  with  whom  due  power  doth  rest 
Admits  not  of  defiance  without  sin  ; 

And  thou  from  self-willed  pride  yet  sufterest. 
206 


ANTIGONE 

Antigone 

Friendless,  unwept,  unwed, 
I  wend  in  sorrow  my  appointed  way  ^ 
No  more  may  I  behold  this  sacred  ray 

By  yon  bright  glory  shed, 

And  yet  no  single  friend 
Utters  a  wail  for  my  unwept-for  end. 

937~987 
Antigont 

City  of  Thebes,  my  fathers'  ancient  home, 

Ye  Gods  of  days  of  old, 
1  linger  not.     They  drag  me  to  my  doom  j 

Princes  of  Thebes,  behold  ; 
See  ye  what  I,  the  last  of  kingly  race, 
And  at  whose  hands  I  suffer  sore  disgrace, 
Because  all  holy  ties  I  still  as  holy  hold. 

Chorus 
STROPHE  I 

So  once  of  old  the  form  of  Danae  bore 

The  loss  of  heavenly  light, 
In  palace  strong  with  brazen  fastenings  bright, 
And,  in  her  tomb-like  chamber  evermore, 

Did  long  a  prisoner  dwell ; 
Yet  she,  my  child,  my  child,  was  high  in  birth, 
And  golden  shower,  that  flowed  from  Zeus  to  earth, 

She  cherished  right  well : 
Ah,  strange  and  dread  the  power  of  Destiny, 
Which  neither  proud  and  full  prosperity, 

Nor  Ares  in  his  power, 
Nor  dark,  sea-beaten  ships,  nor  tower, 

Are  able  to  defy. 

207 


ANTFGONE 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
So  too  the  son  of  Dryas  once  was  bound, 

King  of  Edonian  race; 

Rough-tempered,  he,  for  words  of  foul  disgrace, 
At  Dionysos*  hands  stern  sentence  found, 

In  rocky  cave  confined  : 
And  so  there  faileth,  drop  by  drop,  the  life 
Of  one  whose  soul  was  racked  by  maddening  strife  ; 

And  then  he  called  to  mind 

That  he  had  touched  the  God  with  ribald  tongue  ; 
For  he  essayed  to  check  the  Maenads'  throng, 

And  quench  the  sacred  fire, 
And  stirred  to  jealousy  the  choir 

Of  Muses  loving  song. 

STROPHE  II 

Hard  by  the  gloomy  rocks  where  two  seas  meet 

The  shores  of  Bosporos  rise, 
And  Salmydessos,  the  wild  Thrakians'  seat, 
Where  Ares  saw  upon  the  bleeding  eyes 
A  wound  accursed,  made  in  hellish  mood 

Of  step-dame  stern  and  fierce, — 
Eyes  that  were  torn  by  hands  deep  dyed  in  blood, 
And  points  of  spindles,  quick  and  sharp  to  pierce. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

And  they,  poor  wretches,  wail  their  wretched  fate, 
Birth  stained  with.foul  disgrace  ; 

They  wail  their  mother's  lot,  of  lineage  great, 

Descended  from  the  old  Erectheid  race  ; 

And  she  in  yon  far  distant  caverns  vast, 
Daughter  of  Boreas,  grew, 

On  lofty  crag,  amid  the  stormy  blast  ; 

And  yet  on  her  the  Fates  their  dread  spell  threw. 


108 


ANTIGONE 

1115-1151 
STROPHE  I 

O  Thou  of  many  a  name, 
Joy  of  Cadmeian  bride, 

Child  of  great  Zeus  loud-thundering  from  the  sky  ! 
Thou  rulest  o'er  Italia  great  in  fame, 
And  dwellest  where  the  havens  open  wide 
Of  Deo,  whom  Eleusis  throneth  high. 
O  Bacchos,  who  in  Thebes  delightest  most, 
Fair  mother-city  of  the  Bacchic  throng, 
Or  where  Ismenos'  stream  flows  full  and  strong, 
Or  by  the  brood  that  sprang  from  dragon's  armed  host. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Thee  the  bright  flame  saw  there, 
O'er  rock  of  double  crest, 
Where  nymphs  of  Corycos  in  revel  roam, 
And  bright  Castalia's  fountain  floweth  fair  ; 
And  Thee,  the  banks  of  Nysa  ivy-drest, 
And  the  green  shore,  of  many  a  vine  the  home, 
Lead  forth  with  joy,  a  welcome  visitant, 
In  all  the  open  spaces  of  the  town, 
While  words  scarce  mortal  come  our  joy  to  crown, 
And  make  our  Thebes  resound  with  rapture  jubilant. 

STROPHE  II 

Yes,  this  of  all  that  are, 

Cities  of  ancient  note, 

Thou  hoiourest  most  by  far, 
Thou,  and  thy  mother  whom  the  thunder  smote  ; 

And  now  since  all  the  land 
By  sharp,  sore  pestilence  is  smitten  low, 
Come  Thou  with  feet  still  cleansing  as  they  go, 

Or  o'er  Parnassian  height, 

Or  where  the  waters  bright 
Make  their  perpetual  moan  to  shores  on  either  hand. 

u  zog  o 


ANTIGONE 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

O  Thou  that  lead'st  the  choir 
Of  stars  in  yonder  skies 
That  breathe  with  living  fire, 

The  Lord  and  ruler  of  the  night's  loud  cries  ; 
Child  of  great  Zeus  adored  ! 

Appear,  O  King  !  with  all  thy  Thyiad  train, 

Who,  all  night  long,  in  dance  that  fires  the  brain, 
Raise  shouts  of  ecstasy, 
With  fierce  and  frenzied  cry, 

Still  honouring  thee,  lacchos,  King  and  Lord. 


ELECTRA 

86-250 

Electra 

O  HOLY  light  of  morn  ! 

O  air  that  dost  the  whole  earth  compass  round 
Oft  have  ye  heard  my  cries  of  grief  forlorn, 

And  oft  the  echoing  sound 

Of  blows  the  breast  that  smite, 

When  darkness  yields  to  light ; 
And  for  my  nightly  vigils  they  know  well, 

Those  loathed  couches  of  my  hated  home, 
How  I  upon  my  father's  sorrows  dwell  ; 

To  whom  in  no  strange  land  did  Ares  come 

Breathing  out  slaughter  dread  ; 
But  she,  my  mother,  and  her  paramour, 

^Egisthos,  smote  him  dead 
With  axe  of  murderous  power  ; 

As  men  who  timber  hew 
Cut  down  a  lofty  oak,  so  him  they  slew  ; 

And  from  none  else  but  me 

Comes  touch  of  sympathy, 

Though  thou  wast  doomed  to  die, 
My  father,  with  such  shame  and  foulest  ignominy. 

And,  lo  !   I  will  not  fail 

To  weep  and  mourn  with  wailings  and  with  sighs, 
While  yet  I  see  the  bright  stars  in  the  skies, 

Or  watch  the  daylight  glad, — 

No,  no,  I  will  not  fail, 

Like  sorrowing  nightingale. 


ELECTRA 

Before  the  gate  to  pour  my  sorrows  free, 

My  woe  and  sorrow  at  my  father's  doom. 
O  house  of  Hades  and  Persephone, 

O  Hermes,  guide  of  dwellers  in  the  glovjm, 

Thou,  awful  Curse,  and  ye, 
Erinnyes,  daughters  of  the  Gods,  most  dread, 

Whose  eyes  for  ever  see 
Men  foully  slain,  and  those  whose  marriage  bed 

The  lust  of  evil  guile 

Doth  stealthily  defile, 
Come,  come,  avengers  of  my  father's  fate  ! 

Come,  send  my  brother  back  ! 

For  I  the  courage  lack, 
Alone  to  bear  the  burden  of  this  evil  weight. 

Chorus 
STROPHE  I 

O  child,  Electra,  child 
Of  mother  doomed  to  all  extremest  ill, 

Why  thus  in  wailing  wild 
Dost  thou  unceasing  pour  thy  sorrows  still 

For  him  who,  long  ago, 
Caught  in  thy  mother's  base  and  godless  cheat, 

Fell  by  the  fatal  blow, 
Our  chieftain,  Agamemnon  ?     Yea,  may  he 

Who  planned  this  vile  deceit 

(If  so  to  speak  is  meet) 

Perish  most  wretchedly  ! 


Electra 

0  daughters  of  the  brave  and  true  of  heart, 

Ye  come  to  comfort  me  in  all  my  woe  ; 

1  know  your  love,  yea,  know  its  every  part  ; 

And  yet  I  have  no  wish  to  stop  the  flow 

112 


E  L  E  C  T  R  A 

Of  tears  and  wailings  for  my  ill-starred  sire  ; 

But,  O  my  friends,  who  meet, 
With  true  affection,  all  my  heart's  desire, 

Suffer  me  thus,  I  pray, 

To  pine  and  waste  away. 

Chorus 
ANTISTROPHE  I 

And  yet  thou  can'st  not  raise 
Thy  father,  nor  with  wailing  nor  with  prayer, 

From  Hades'  darkling  ways, 
And  gloomy  lake  where  all  that  die  repair  ; 

But  thou,  thus  grieving  still, 
Dost  pass,  brought  low,  from  evil  one  might  bear 

To  that  worst  form  of  ill, 
In  which  for  deepest  woe  is  no  relief. 

Ah  me  !  why  striv'st  thou  so 

For  such  increase  of  woe, 

Still  adding  to  my  grief? 

Electra 
Ah,  weak  as  infant  he  who  can  forget 

His  parents  that  have  perished  wretchedly  ; 
Far  more  she  pleaseth  me  that  mourneth  yet, 

And  "  Itys,  Itys,"  wails  unceasingly  ; 
The  bird  heart-broken,  messenger  of  Heaven. 

Ah,  Niobe,  most  sad  ! 

To  thee,  I  deem,  high  fate  divine  was  given, 
For  thou  in  cavern  grot, 
Still  weeping,  ceasest  not. 

Chorus 
STROPHE  II 

Ah,  not  for  thee  alone 
Of  mortal  race  hath  come  the  taste  of  woes. 

What  cause  hast  thou  above  those  twain  to  moan, 
In  whom  the  self-same  blood  of  kindred  flows, 


ELECTRA 

Iphianassa  and  Chrysothemis  ? 
And  one  in  youth  obscure  and  sad  doth  live, 

Yet  blest,  at  least,  in  this, 
That  unto  him  Mykenae  famed  shall  give 
Its  welcome  as  the  son  of  noble  sire, 
Beneath  the  care  of  Zeus'  almighty  hand, 
Returning  once  again,  Orestes,  to  our  land. 

Electra 
Yes,  he  it  is  for  whom  I  waste  away, 

Wailing  for  him,  in  vain,  unweariedly  ; 
And  in  my  sorrow  know  no  bridal  day, 

But  weep  sad  tears  from  eyelids  never  dry, 
Bearing  my  endless  weight 
Of  dark  and  dreary  fate : 
And  he  remembers  not 
All  that  I  did  for  him,  and  all  he  knew. 

What  message  comes,  yea,  what, 
That  is  not  cheated  of  fulfilment  true  ? 
He  yearneth  still  for  home  ; 
Yet  yearning  will  not  come. 

Chorus 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Take  heart,  my  child,  take  heart ; 
Still  mighty  in  the  heavens  Zeus  doth  reign, 

Who  sees  the  whole  world,  rules  its  every  part : 
To  Him  do  thou  commit  thy  bitter  pain, 

Nor  be  thou  over-vexed,  nor  forget 
Those  whom  thou  hatest  sorely  evermore  ; 

Time  is  a  kind  God  yet ; 
For  neither  he  who  dwells  on  Crisa's  shore, 
Where  feed  the  oxen,  Agamemnon's  son, 
Unheeding,  there  lives  on  ; 
Nor  yet  the  God  who  reigns 

By  Acheron's  waters  o'er  his  dark  and  drear  domains. 
214 


ELECTRA 

Electra 
Nay,  but  the  larger  half  of  life  is  gone, 

And  all  hope  fails,  and  I  no  more  can  bear ; 
No  parents  left,  I  waste  my  days  alone, 

And  no  true  husband  guardeth  me  from  fear ; 
Like  one  of  alien  race, 
I,  in  my  sore  disgrace, 
My  father's  chambers  tend, 
In  this  unsightly  and  unseemly  dress, 

And  still  as  slave  attend, 
And  wait  on  tables  in  my  sore  distress, 
Tables  that  empty  stand, 
No  friends  on  either  hand. 

Chorus 
STROPHE  III 

Sad  was  thy  father's  cry, 
When  home  he  came,  and  sad  when,  as  he  lay, 

The  stern,  keen  blow  came  nigh 
Of  brazen  hatchet  sharp  to  smite  and  slay  ; 
Guile  was  it  that  devised  the  murderous  crime, 

And  lust  that  slew  him  there, 
Strangely  strange  form  begetting  of  old  time; 

Whether  a  God  it  were, 

Or  one  of  mortal  race, 
Who  wrought  these  deeds  of  darkness  and  disgrace. 

Electra 
O  day  of  all  the  days  that  ever  came, 

Most  hateful  unto  me  ! 
O  night !   O  woes  of  banquets  none  may  name, 

Which  he,  my  sire,  did  see  ! 

Foul  death  which  their  hands  wrought, 
The  two  that  took  by  basest  treachery 

Him  who  my  life's  joy  brought, 
And  so  destroyed,  destroyed  me  utterly. 
215 


ELECTRA 

May  He  who  dwells  in  might, 

On  yon  Olympian  height, 
Give  them  to  grieve  with  guilt-avenging  groan, 
And  ne'er  may  they  whose  souls  such  deeds  have  known 

Share  in  good  fortune  bright ! 

Chorus 
ANTISTROPHE  III 

Take  heed,  and  speak  no  more  ; 
Hast  thou  no  thought  from  what  high,  prosperous  state 

Thou  now  art  passing  o'er, 
Into  what  sorrow  lorn  and  desolate  ? 
For  thou  hast  gained  a  burden  infinite 

Of  woe  and  wretchedness, 
Still  cherishing  thy  wrath  in  sore  despite, 

Fierce  war  and  bitterness ; 

And  yet  it  were  ill  done 
To  come  in  conflict  with  a  mighty  one. 

Electra 
By  sufferings  dire,  most  dire,  I  was  constrained  : 

I  know  it,  wrath  blinds  not ; 
And  yet  I  will  not  hide,  though  direly  pained, 

The  misery  of  my  lot, 

Not  while  in  life  I  dwell. 
Ah  me  !  from  whom,  my  friends,  companions  dear, 

From  whom  that  thinketh  well, 
Shall  I  a  word  in  season  hope  to  hear  ? 

O  ye,  who  fain  would  cheer, 

Leave  me,  oh,  leave  me  here, 
For  these  my  woes  as  endless  shall  be  known  ; 
Nor  will  I  cease  to  make  my  wailing  moan, 

And  weep  full  many  a  tear. 
Chorus 

And  yet  of  mere  good  will, 

As  mother  fond  and  true, 


ELECTRA 

I  bid  thee  this  vain  toil  no  more  pursue, 
Still  breeding  ill  on  ill. 

Electra 

Nay ;  but  what  bounds  are  set  to  baseness  here  \ 

Come,  tell  me  this,  I  pray, 

How  can  it  e'er  be  right 

Those  who  are  dead  to  slight  ? 

Where  did  that  law  appear  ? 
May  I  ne'er  walk  in  honour  in  their  way, 

Nor  if  aught  good  be  mine, 

Dwell  with  it  happily, 

Should  I  the  wings  confine 

That  rise  with  bitter  cry, 

And  bid  them  cease  to  pay 
Due  reverence  to  my  father  past  away ! 
If  he  who  dies  be  but  as  dust  and  nought, 

And  poor  and  helpless  lie, 
And  these  no  vengeance  meet  for  what  they  wrought, 

Then  truly  awe  will  die, 
And  all  men  lose  their  natural  piety. 

472-515 
Chorus 
STROPHE 

Unless  I  be  a  brainstruck,  erring  seer, 

Wanting  in  wisdom  true, 

Right  doth  her  course  pursue, 

With  dim  foreshadowing  : 
She  in  her  hands  doth  righteous  victory  bring, 

And  will  ere  long  appear. 

Yes,  courage  comes  to  me, 
Hearing  but  now  the  tidings  that  they  bring, 

These  visions  breathing  forth  sweet  hope  and  glee, 
For  never  shall  thy  father,  Lord  and  King 
"7 


ELECTRA 

Of  all  the  Hellenes'  race, 

Forget  the  dire  disgrace, 
Nor  that  sharp  brazen  axe  of  yon  far  time, 
Which  slew  him  with  all  shame  of  foulest  crime. 

ANTISTROPHE 

And  so  with  many  a  foot  and  many  a  hand, 

Lurking  in  ambush  dread, 

Shall  come  with  brazen  tread, 

Erinnys  terrible  ; 
For  lo  !  the  clasp  of  blood-stained  marriage-bed 

Came  in  foul  wedlock's  band 

On  those  who  might  not  wed  ; 
And  now,  in  face  of  these  things,  I  must  deem 

That  those  who  did  or  shared  the  deed  of  guilt 
Shall  have  good  reason  to  mislike  their  dream  : 

Yea,  oracles  are  vain, 

In  dreams  or  prophet's  strain, 
Unless  this  shadowy  phantom  of  the  night 
Shall  reach  its  goal,  victorious  in  the  right. 

EPODE 

O  chariot-race  of  old, 
Full  of  great  woe  untold, 

From  Pelops'  hand  ; 
How  did'st  thou  come,  yon  time, 
Dark  with  the  guilt  of  crime, 

To  this  our  land  ! 
For  since  the  ocean  wave 
Gave  Myrtilos  a  grave, 
Out  of  the  golden  car 
Hurled  headlong  forth  afar, 
With  shame  and  foul  despite, 
No  shame  hath  failed  to  light 
On  this  our  dwelling-place, 
Bringing  most  foul  disgrace. 
218 


ELECTRA 

1058-1096 
STROPHE  I 

Why,  when  we  see  on  high 
The  birds  whose  wisdom  is  of  noblest  worth, 

Still  caring  to  supply 
The  wants  of  those  from  whom  they  had  their  birth, 

Who  fed  their  nestling  youth, 
Why  do  not  we  like  boon  with  like  requite  ? 

Nay,  by  the  lightning  bright 

Of  Zeus,  and  heavenly  strength  of  Law  and  Truth, 
Not  long  shall  we  live  on  unpunished. 
O  Fame  !   for  us  poor  mortals  wont  to  bear 
Thy  tidings  to  the  region  of  the  dead, 

Lift  up  thy  wailing  drear, 
And  to  the  Atreidse,  as  they  sleep  below, 
Report  the  shame,  the  discord,  and  the  woe. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Tell  them  those  ills  of  old,  yea,  tell  again, 
And  add  that  now  the  hot  and  bitter  strife 

Of  these  their  children  twain 
Yields  to  no  charm  of  fellowship  in  life. 

Electra,  now  forlorn, 
Deserted  sails  upon  a  stormy  sea, 

And  in  her  misery, 
Her  father's  fortune  ceaseth  not  to  mourn, 

Like  nightingale  that  waileth  evermore  ; 
She  little  recks  if  death  be  in  the  way, 

And  stands  prepared  to  sleep  and  wake  no  more, 
If  only  she  those  two  Erinnyes  slay  : 

Who  of  all  souls  that  are,  with  her  can  vie 
For  fair  repute  of  filial  loyalty  ? 

STROPHE  II 
No,  none  of  all  that  boast  a  noble  fame 

Would  wish  his  fair  repute  to  stain  and  spot, 
219 


ELECTRA 

By  living  basely,  stript  of  honoured  name  ; 

And  thou,  my  child,  did'st  choose  thy  dreary  lot, 
Thine  evil  lot,  bewept  with  many  a  tear, 

Arming  against  the  thing  that  right  defies  ; 
And  these  two  glories  in  one  word  dost  bear 

Known  as  true  daughter,  excellent  and  wise. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
Ah,  may'st  thou  live  and  be  as  much  above 

Thy  foes  in  might  and  wealth  as  now  below 
Thou  dwellest  ruled  by  those  thou  can'st  not  love  ! 

For  I  have  seen  thee  on  thy  sad  path  go — 
No  pleasant  pathway  that — but  gaining  still 

The  meed  of  praise  for  all  the  holiest  laws, 
Which  highest  place  in  heavenly  order  fill, 

Py  this  thy  reverence  winning  God's  applause. 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

94-140 
STROPHE  I 

O  THOU,  to  whom  the  star-bespangled  Night, 
Slain  and  despoiled,  gives  birth, 

And  lulls  again  to  rest,  O  Sun-God  bright, 
Thee,  Helios,  I  implore, 
Tell  me  on  what  far  shore 

Alcmena's  son  is  dwelling  on  the  earth, 

(O  Thou,  whose  glory  gleaming 
In  blaze  of  light  is  streaming  !) 

Or  by  the  ocean-valley's  deep  descent, 

Or  taking  rest  in  either  continent, 

Tell  Thou,  with  whom  there  dwells 

A  power  to  see  which  all  our  sight  excels. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

For,  lo  !  I  hear  that  she  with  anxious  thought, 
Our  Deianeira,  sighs, 

The  bride  of  old  in  fierce,  hot  conflict  sought  ; 
And  like  some  lonely  bird, 
Whose  wailing  cry  is  heard, 

Can  never  close  in  slumber  tearless  eyes, 
But  still  is  forced  to  cherish 
Dread  fear  lest  he  should  perish ; 

And  so  in  marriage  couch,  of  spouse  bereft, 

Wears  out  her  life,  to  lonely  darkness  left, 
And  ever  fears  a  fate 

Full  fraught  with  evil,  dreary,  desolate. 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 
STROPHE  II 

For  even  as  one  sees 
Or  South  or  North  wind  sweep  resistless  on, 

And  toss  the  vexed  seas, 
The  wild  waves  rushing,  surging  one  by  one, 

So  him  of  Cadmos  born, 

By  many  a  great  grief  worn, 
A  Cretan  sea  of  troubles  vexeth  still  ; 

And  yet  some  great  God's  might 

Keeps  him  from  Death's  dark  night, 
And  ever  guards  from  each  extremest  ill. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

I,  therefore,  blaming  this, 
Will  come  with  words,  though  pleasant,  thwarting  thee: 

I  say  thou  dost  amiss 
To  let  thy  better  hope  all  wasted  be. 

The  King  who  all  doth  hold, 

Great  son  of  Cronos  old, 
Hath  given  to  no  man  fortune  free  from  woe ; 

But  still  the  wheeling  sphere, 

Where  turns  the  northern  Bear, 
Brings  joy  and  sorrow  circling  as  they  go. 

EPODE 

It  stayeth  not  on  earth, 
Nor  star-bespangled  Night,  nor  gloomy  Fate, 

Nor  riches,  nor  high  birth  ; 

But  still  it  comes  and  goes, 

Lighting  on  these  or  those, 
Or  joy  abounding,  or  the  low  estate. 

And  this  I  say  that  thou, 

My  queen,  should'st  bear  in  mind: 
For  who  hath  seen  in  all  the  past  till  now 
Zeus  to  his  children  known  as  careless  or  unkind  ? 


THE   MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 

205-224 

Let  the  loud  shout  arise, 

With  clear,  re-echoing  cries, 

From  maidens  bright  and   fair  with  youth's  fresh 
glow; 

And  let  the  cry  of  men, 

Again  and  yet  again, 
Hail  great  Apollo,  bearer  of  the  bow: 

Paeans  on  paeans  raise, 

Ye  maidens,  in  his  praise, 
And  on  his  sister  call,  Ortygian  Artemis, 

The  huntress  of  the  deer, 

With  torches  flashing  clear, 
And  all  the  Nymphs  whose  dwelling  near  us  is. 

I  quiver  through  each  vein, 

And  dare  not  slight  thy  strain, 

0  flute,  thou  sovereign  master  of  my  soul; 

Lo  !  the  twined  ivy-wreath 
Stirs  me  with  passionate  breath, 

And  bids  me  leap  in  Bacchic  strife  beneath   its   strong 
control. 

498-532 
STROPHE 

Great  is  the  power  the  Kyprian  Goddess  wields : 
I  speak  not  of  the  things 
That  touch  on  Heaven's  high  kings, 

1  will  not  tell  how  e'en  the  son  of  Cronos  yields 

To  wiles  that  mock  and  cheat ; 

Nor  how  the  dark  retreat 
Of  Hades  she  invades  and  captive  makes 
Poseidadn,  whose  touch  the  great  earth  shakes. 

But  who  were  they  who  came, 

As  combatants  of  fame, 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

To  woo  the  hand  of  that  fair  virgin  bride  ? 

Who  strove  with  many  a  blow 

And  wrestlings,  bending  low, 
And  cloud  of  dust  all  round  that  did  the  conflict  hide  ? 

ANTISTROPHE 

One  was  a  mighty  river,  dread  to  see, 

A  bull  with  four  limbs  long, 

And  lofty  horns  and  strong, 
The  Acheloos  stream  from  far  CEniadae  ; 

And  one  from  Thebes  did  go, 

Shaking  his  well-strung  bow, 
With  spear  and  club,  the  son  of  Zeus  most  high. 
And  they  in  hot  and  deadly  rivalry, 

Seeking  for  marriage-bed, 

Came  to  the  combat  dread ; 
And  she,  the  Kyprian  Goddess,  fair  to  see, 

There,  in  the  midst,  alone 

Stood  by,  the  Mighty  One, 
Wielding  the  umpire's  rod  in  her  supremacy. 

EPODE 

Clash  of  hands  was  there, 

And  din  of  clanging  bow, 

And  horns  that  smote  the  air, 

And  wrestlings,  limbs  with  limbs,  and  many  a  sturdy  blow, 
And  many  a  cry  of  pain  on  either  side; 
And  she,  the  fair-faced,  tender,  delicate, 
Upon  the  bank  that  gave  good  prospect  sate, 
Waiting  for  one  to  claim  her  as  his  bride. 

(So,  as  her  mother  told, 

I  tell  that  tale  of  old  ;) 
And  there  the  sad,  pale  face  of  sorrowing  maid, 

Thus  wooed  and  won  with  strife, 

Awaits  her  lot  as  wife, 

Like  lonely  heifer  wandering  far  in  wildest  glade. 
"4 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

633-662 
STROPHE  I 

O  ye  whose  dwelling  lies 
By  the  warm  springs  that  to  the  harbour  flow, 

Or  where  the  tall  rocks  rise 
And  cliffs  of  (Eta  ;  ye  who  wont  to  go 

Hard  by  the  Melian  lake, 
And  coasts  where  roams  the  golden-arrowed  queen, 

Where  Hellenes  counsel  take, 
And  there  at  Pylae  famed  their  agora  convene, 

ANTJSTROPHB  I 

Quickly  to  you  the  flute 
Shall  raise  in  music  sweet  no  tuneless  strain, 

But  one  that  well  may  suit 
The  answering  lyre  from  out  the  Muses'  train  : 

For  now  Alcmena's  son, 
Who  Zeus  his  father  calls,  returneth  home  ; 

With  spoils  that  he  hath  won, 
High  prize  of  valour,  now  will  he  exulting  come  : 

STROPHE  II 

E'en  he  of  whom  we  thought 
Twelve  long  months,  knowing  nought, 

As  of  an  exile  far  upon  the  sea  ; 

While,  weeping  for  her  lord, 
Her  tears  the  poor  wife  poured, 

And  her  sad  heart  grew  faint  with  misery ; 
But  now  to  fury  wrought, 

Great  Ares  hath  the  end  of  all  her  dark  days  brought. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Oh,  may  he  come,  yes,  come ! 
Ne'er,  till  he  reach  his  home, 
H  225  r 


THE   MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 

May  his  swift  ship  know  hazards  nor  delays  ! 

Leaving  the  sea-washed  shrine, 

Where  he,  in  rite  divine, 
Is  said  to  offer  sacrifice  and  praise, 

So  may  he  come,  all  calm, 
Soothed  at  the  Kentaur's  hest  by  that  anointing  balm  ! 

821-861 
STROPHE  I 

See,  O  ye  maidens,  how  the  sacred  word 
Of  that  far-seeing  Providence  of  Heaven 

Hath  sped,  through  which  we  heard 
That,  when  the  twelfth  full  harvest-tide  should  come, 
Its  months  completed,  there  should  then  be  given 
To  the  true  son  of  Zeus  full  rest  at  home 

From  many  a  toil  and  woe  ; 

And  rightly  all  things  go  ; 
For  how  can  one  who  seeth  not  the  day 
In  bondage  still  to  evils  wear  his  life  away  ? 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

For  if  with  murderous  cloud  from  Kentaur  fierce 
A  subtle  fate  wrap  all  his  stalwart  frame, 

And  the  hot  venom  pierce, 
Which  Death  begat  and  spotted  dragon  reared, 
How  can  he  hope  to  see  the  sun's  bright  flame, 
Beyond  to-day,  by  form  fell,  dark,  and  feared, 
Of  Hydra  done  to  death, 
While  words  of  crafty  breath 
And  deadly  throbs  of  pain  that  seize  and  burn, 
Caused  by  the  swarth-maned  monster,  all  his  might  o'er- 
turn  ? 

STROPHE  II 

And  she,  (ah  misery  !) 
Seeing  a  great  evil  to  her  home  draw  nigh 
zz6 


THE   MAIDENS   OF  TRACHIS 

Of  marriage  strange  and  new, 
Hath  failed  to  scan  aright  the  things  she  knew, 

And  now  has  cause  to  mourn 
The  alien  counsel  of  fell  converse  born  ; 

She  pours,  I  trow,  in  fears, 
A  pelting  rain  of  fast  down-dropping  tears  ; 

And  coming  Destiny 
Unfolds  a  subtle,  great  calamity. 

ANTIaTROPHE    II 

The  flood  of  tears  flows  fast  ; 
Sore  evil  spreads,  like  which  in  all  the  past 

Ne'er  from  most  hostile  foe 
Came  on  the  son  of  Zeus  far-famed,  a  woe 

That  well  might  move  to  tears. 
O  thou  dark  point  of  war's  victorious  spears, 

Thou  broughtest  then  yon  bride, 
Won  where  CEchalia  soareth  in  its  pride  ; 

And  she  of  Kypros  still. 

In  speechless  might,  is  seen  to  work  out  Heaven's  high 
will. 

947-1043 
STROPHE  I 

Which  calleth  first  for  lament  ? 
What  grief  takes  widest  extent  ? 

Hard  question  this  to  decide  for  me  in  my  measureless 
woe  ! 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Some  sorrows  dwell  with  us  near, 
And  some  we  await  in  our  fear, 

And  the  present  and  future  alike  in  one  common  dreari 
ness  flow. 

STROPHE  II 
Ah  !  would  that  some  gale,  blowing  soft, 

Would  come  on  my  hearth  and  my  home, 
227 


THE    MAIDENS   OF   TRACHIS 

And  bear  me  away,  far  aloft, 

Where  never  the  terror  might  come, — 
Terror  that  makes  the  life  fail — 

Of  seeing  the  strong  son  of  Zeus — 
Yes,  seeing  him  (so  runs  the  tale) 

In  pain  that  none  may  unloose, 
Come  to  his  home,  smitten  low, 
A  marvel  and  portent  of  woe. 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

Nearer — no  longer  from  far, 

I  wail  him  as  nightingale  wails  ; 
The  tread  of  strange  footsteps  I  hear.  .  .  . 

But  how  is  he  brought  ?     As  one  fails, 
Wrapt  in  his  care  for  a  friend, 

To  break  the  hush  with  his  tread  ; 
So,  voiceless,  on  him  they  attend : 

Ah,  shall  I  deem  him  as  dead  ? 
Or  may  I  hope  that  he  lies, 

Deep  sleep  closing  his  eyes  ? 

Hyllos 

Ah,  woe  is  me  for  thee,  my  father  dear  ! 
Woe,  woe,  for  all  my  misery  and  fear ! 
What  sorrow  cometh  next  ? 
What  counsel  can  I  find  for  soul  perplexed  ? 

Elder 

Hush,  boy,  hush  !  lest  thou  stir 
Thy  sore  vexed  father's  anguish  dark  and  drear ; 

He  lives,  in  sleep  laid  low; 
Curb  thou  thy  lips,  no  murmur  let  him  hear. 

Hyllos 

What  say'st  thou  ?     Lives  he  still  r 
228 


THE    MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 
Eldtr 

Thou  wilt  not  rouse  him  now  he  slumbers  sound 

My  child,  nor  stir  his  ill, 
Nor  bid  it  run  its  fierce,  relentless  round. 

Hyllos 

And  yet  my  mind  is  vexed, 
Brooding  o'er  sorrow,  shaken  and  perplexed. 

Heraclti 
O  Zeus ! 

What  spot  on  earth  is  this  ? 
Among  what  men  am  I  ? 
By  pain  that  will  not  cease, 
Worn  out  with  agony ; 
Ah,  miserable  me  ! 
Again  the  accursed  venom  gnaws  through  me. 

Elder  [to  Hyllos} 

Did'st  thou  not  know  what  gain 

It  were  to  silence  keep, 
Nor  banish  from  the  eyes  of  one  in  pain 

The  dew  of  kindly  sleep  ? 

Hyllos 

And  yet  I  know  not  how 
To  hold  my  peace,  such  pain  beholding  now. 

Heracles 

O  ye  Kenasan  heights 

Whereon  mine  altars  stood, 
What  meed  for  holiest  rites 

Have  ye  wrought,  and  for  good 
Such  outrage  brought  on  me  ! 
Would  God  I  ne'er  had  cast  on  you  mine  eye, 
"9 


THE   MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 

Nor  lived  to  see 
This  crown  of  frenzied,  unsoothed  agony. 

What  minstrel  apt  to  charm, 

What  leech  with  skilful  arm, 
Apart  from  Zeus,  this  pain  could  tranquil  keep  I 
(Wonder  far  off  were  that  to  gaze  upon  !) 
Ah  me  !   but  leave  me,  leave  me  yet  to  sleep, 
Leave  me  to  sleep,  me,  miserable  one. 

Where  dost  thou  touch  me  ?     Say, 
Where  lay  to  rest  ? 

Ah  !  thou  wilt  slay  me,  slay : 
What  slumbered  thou  hast  roused  to  life  again  ; 
It  seizes  me,  it  creeps,  this  weary  pain. 

Where  are  ye,  who,  of  all 

That  Hellas  hers  doth  call, 
Are  found  most  evil,  reckless  of  the  right  ? 

For  whom  I  wore  my  life, 

In  ceaseless,  dreary  strife, 
Slaying  by  land  and  sea  dread  forms  of  might ; 

Yet  now  to  him  who  lies 

In  these  sharp  agonies, 

Not  one  will  bring  the  fire 
Or  sword,  wherewith  to  work  his  heart's  desire ; 

And  none  will  come  and  smite 

His  head  to  death's  dark  night, 

And  end  his  misery  : 

Ah  me  !  fie  on  you,  fie. 


Elder 

Come,  boy,  thou  son  of  him  who  lieth  there, 
Come  thou  and  help,  the  work  o'ertasketh  me ; 

Thine  eye  is  young  and  clear ; 
Thy  vision  more  than  mine  to  save  and  free. 


THE   MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIS 

Hyllos 

I  lend  my  hand  to  lift ; 
But  neither  from  within,  nor  yet  without, 
May  I  a  life  forgetting  pain  work  out ; 

Zeus  only  gives  that  gift. 

Heracles 

Boy,  boy  !  where,  where  art  thou  ? 
Come,  lift  me  up ;  yea,  this  way  raise  thou  me. 

Oh  me  !   O  cursed  Fates ! 
It  leaps  again,  it  leaps  upon  me  now, 

That  scourge  that  desolates, 
Fierce,  stern,  inexorable  agony. 

O  Pallas,  Pallas !     Now  it  bites  again, 

That  bitter  throb  of  pain  : 
Come,  boy,  in  mercy  smite 
The  father  that  begat  thee ;  draw  thy  sword, 

Sword  none  will  dare  to  blame  : 

Heal  thou  the  evil  plight 

With  which  thy  mother,  sold  to  guilt  abhorred, 
Hath  kindled  all  my  wrath  with  this  foul  shame. 

Ah,  might  I  see  her  fallen  even  so, 

As  she  hath  brought  me  low  ! 

O  Hades,  dear  and  sweet, 

Brother  of  Zeus  on  high, 

Smite  me  with  quickest  death-blow,  I  entreat, 
And  give  me  rest,  give  rest  from  this  my  misery  ! 


AIAS 

133-262 

O  SON  of  Telamon, 
Who  hast  thine  home  in  sea-girt  Salamis, 

Where  the  waves  plash  and  moan, 
I  joy  when  all  with  thee  goes  well  and  right ; 
But  when  the  stroke  of  Zeus  thy  head  doth  smite, 
Or  from  the  Danai  evil  rumour  flies, 

Spread  far  by  enemies, 
Then  am  I  filled  with  dread,  and,  like  a  dove, 

In  fear  and  trembling  move, 

And  glance  with  shuddering  eyes. 
And  now  this  very  night,  its  end  just  come, 

Great  sorrows  on  us  press, 

Hearing  ill  news,  that  thou 
Hast  rushed  upon  the  meadow  where  they  roam, 

Our  good  steeds  numberless, 
And  there  hast  slain  the  Danai's  treasured  spoil, 
All  that  was  left  us,  won  by  war's  sharp  toil, 

And  dost  destroy  them  now 

With  the  keen,  bright-edged  sword. 

Yea,  such  the  gist  of  every  whispered  word 
Odysseus  now  to  each  man's  hearing  brings, 

And  gains  belief  too  well; 

For  lo  !  he  tells  of  things 
That  now  are  found  of  thee  too  credible, 

And  every  one  that  hears 
Rejoiceth  more  than  he  who  tells  the  tale, 

And  has  but  taunts  and  jeers 
For  all  the  sorrows  that  o'er  thee  prevail ; 


AIAS 

For  if  one  takes  his  aim 

Against  the  great, 
He  shall  not  fail,  attacking  their  fair  fame ; 

But  one  who  should  relate 
Such  tales  of  me  would  little  credence  gain ; 
For  envy  still  attends  on  high  estate : 
And  yet  the  poor  but  little  may  sustain, 

Weak  tower  and  bulwark  they, 
Who  have  not  great  and  mighty  men  their  stay ; 

And  still  the  great  must  own 
The  poor  and  weak  the  best  props  of  their  throne. 

Yet  men  are  slow  to  see, 
Senseless  and  blind,  the  truth  of  laws  like  these. 

And  now,  O  king,  on  thee 
Such  men  pour  idle  clamour,  as  they  please, 

And  we  are  weak  and  frail, 
And  without  thee  to  ward  them  off  we  fail ; 
But  when  thy  form  shall  fill  their  souls  with  fear, 
As  flocks  of  winged  birds  in  fluttering  haste, 

When  swoops  a  vulture  near, 

Raise  din  and  chattering  loud, 

So,  should'st  thou  once  appear, 

They  too  would  crouch  in  dread,  a  dumb  and  voiceless 
crowd. 

STROPHE 

Yes,  of  a  truth,  the  huntress  Artemis, 
Daughter  of  Zeus,  the  wild  bull  bringing  low, 

(O  dark  and  evil  fame  ! 

O  mother  of  my  shame!) 

She,  she  hath  urged  and  driven  thee  on  to  this, 
Against  the  people's  herds  with  sword  to  go. 
Was  it  for  conquest  whence  she  did  not  bear 

In  war's  success  her  share  ? 
Or  was  she  tricked  of  gifts  of  glorious  spoils, 
Or  wild  deer  quarry,  taken  in  the  toils  ? 


AIAS 

Or  was  it  Enyalios,  brazen-clad, 

Brooding  o'er  fancied  slight 
For  help  in  war  whence  he  no  booty  had, 
Who  thus  avenged  his  wrong  in  stratagems  of  night  ? 

ANTISTROPHE 

For  never  else,  O  son  of  Telamon, 
Had'st  thou,  from  peace  and  healthy  calmness  driven, 

(Turning  so  far  astray 

As  these  poor  brutes  to  slay,) 
To  dark,  sinister  ill  so  madly  gone  ! 
It  may  be  that  this  evil  comes  from  Heaven  ; 
But  Zeus  and  Phcebos,  may  they  still  avert 

The  Argives'  words  of  hurt ! 
But  if  the  mighty  kings,  with  evil  will, 
Spread  tidings  false,  or,  sunk  in  deepest  ill, 
That  off-shoot  of  the  stock  of  Sisyphos, 

Do  not,  O  king,  I  pray, 
Still  by  the  waves  in  tents  abiding  thus, 
Take  to  thy  shame  and  mine  the  evil  that  they  say. 

EPODE 

Rise  from  thy  seat,  arise, 

Where  all  too  long  thou  hast  unmoved  stayed  on, 
Kindling  a  woe  that  spreadeth  to  the  skies, 
While  thy  foes'  haughty  scorn  its  course  doth  run, 

With  nothing  to  restrain, 
As  in  a  thicket  when  the  wind  blows  fair  ; 

And  all  take  up  the  strain, 
And  tell  of  things  that  drive  me  to  despair  : 

For  me  is  nought  but  pain. 

Tecmessa 

O  men,  who  came  to  aid 
Our  Alas,  ye  who  trace  your  ancient  birth 
To  old  Erectheus,  sprung  from  out  the  earth, 
We  who  watch,  half  afraid, 
234 


AIAS 

Far  from  his  home,  o'er  Telamon's  dear  son, 

Have  cause  enough  to  wail  ; 
Aias,  the  dread,  strong,  mighty  to  prevail, 

Lies  smitten  low 
By  stormy  blast  of  wild  tempestuous  woe. 

Chorus 

What  trouble  burdensome, 

In  place  of  peace  and  rest, 

Hath  the  night  to  us  brought  ? 

O  thou  from  Phrygia  come, 

Child  of  Teleutas  old, 

Speak  thou  at  our  behest, 
For  Aias  holds  thee  high  in  his  esteem, 

Prize  of  his  prowess  bold  ; 
And  thou  would'st  speak  not  ignorant,  I  deem. 

Tecmessa 

Yet  how  can  I  speak  aught 
Of  what  with  woe  unspeakable  is  fraught  ? 
Dreadful  and  dark  the  things  that  thou  wilt  hear  ; 

For  Aias  in  the  night 

Hath  fallen  in  evil  plight : 
Yes  he,  the  great,  far-famed,  sits  raving  there. 
Such  the  dread  sight  would  meet  thy  shrinking  eyes 

Within  his  tent, 
His  victims  slaughtered,  mangled,  blood-besprent, 

The  hero's  sacrifice. 

Chorus 
STROPHE 

Ah  me  !  what  news  of  fear 
Of  him,  the  man  of  spirit  bright  and  keen, 
Thou  bringest  to  our  ear, 
Tidings  we  may  not  bear, 
While  yet  no  way  of  'scaping  them  is  seen, 


AIAS 

By  the  great  Danai  spread, 
Which  mighty  Rumour  swells  to  form  more  dread. 

Ah  me  !  I  fear,  I  fear, 

What  creepeth  near  and  near  ; 
In  sight  of  all  men  draws  he  nigh  to  death ; 
For  he  with  hand  to  frenzy  turned  aside, 

And  dark  sword's  edge  hath  slain, 

The  herds  that  roamed  the  plain 
And  keepers  who  were  there  the  steeds  to  guide. 

Tecmessa 

Ah  me  !     'Twas  thence  he  rushed, 
Dragging  the  flock  of  sheep  as  bound  with  chain  ; 

And  some  he  stabbed  until  the  blood  outgushed, 
And  some  with  one  sharp  stroke  he  clove  in  twain  ; 

And,  seizing  two  swift  rams  with  white-woolled  feet, 
Of  one  he  took  the  head  and  tore  the  tongue, 

And  both  away  he  flung ; 
The  other  to  a  column  bound  upright, 

Taking  his  chariot's  rein, 
And  with  his  double  scourge  that  rings  again, 
Still  more  and  more  did  smite, 
Uttering  foul  words  of  shame, 
Which  never  from  a  man,  but  from  a  demon  came. 

Chorus 
ANTISTROPHK 

Now  it  is  time  to  hide 
One's  head  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  veil, 

Or  in  the  ships  that  glide, 

Swiftly  o'er  ocean's  tide, 
On  bench  of  rowers  sitting  swift  to  sail : 

Such  are  the  threats  they  fling, 
The  two  Atreidse,  each  a  sovereign  king, 

Against  me,  and  I  dread 

Lest  I  should  lie  there  dead, 
By  fearful  fate  of  stoning  doomed  to  die, 


AIAS 

Sharing  the  woe  of  him  our  lord  and  friend, 
Whom  shame  and  dark  disgrace, 
That  none  may  dare  to  face, 

As  prisoner  keep,  and  hold  him  to  the  end. 

Teemessa 

Nay,  it  is  so  no  more ; 

For  as  the  swift  South-west, 
That  rushes  on  without  the  lightning-blaze, 

Soon  lulls  its  tempest  roar, 
So  he  is  calm ;  and  now  his  care-worn  breast 
Broods  o'er  new  trouble,  filled  with  sore  amaze ; 
For  to  look  out  on  ills  ourselves  have  wrought, 

Which  no  hand  else  has  brought, 

This  of  all  grief  and  pain 

Is  hardest  to  sustain. 

348-427 

Alas 

STROPHE  I 
O  sailors  dear  to  me,  my  true  friends  still, 

Ye  only  faithful  found, 
Ye  see  how  o'er  me  waves  of  deadly  ill 
Go  surging  round  and  round. 

Chorus 

Ah  me  !     Too  well  thou  speakest  all  the  truth. 
[Aside.]  Yet  his  acts  show  how  frenzied  is  his  soul. 

Aiai 

ANTISTROPHE  I 
O  race  of  men  who  with  my  good  ship  sailed, 

Who  came  and  plied  the  oar, 
Yet  only  have  in  trouble  never  failed  ; 
Now  slay  me,  I  implore. 


AIAS 

Chorui 

Hush,  hush  !  nor  seek  fresh  ill  on  ill  to  pour, 
Nor  make  the  weight  of  sorrow  more  and  more. 

Aias 

STROPHE  II 

Thou  see'st  the  brave  and  bold, 
(Fearless  in  fight  was  he,) 
His  prowess  show  on  brute  beasts  of  the  field  : 
Ah  me  !     What  scorn  and  outrage  fall  on  me  .' 

Tecmessa 
Dear  lord  !  I  pray  thee,  Aias,  speak  not  thus. 

Aias 

Away  !     Wilt  thou  not  go  ? 
Away  with  thee  !   .  .  .  Woe,  woe  ! 

Tecmessa 
Nay,  by  the  Gods,  be  calm  and  yield  to  us. 

Aias 
O  wretched  fool,  whose  hands  have  failed  to  keep 

My  foe's  accursed  brood, 
And  falling  on  horn'd  kine  and  goodly  sheep, 

Poured  out  their  purple  blood  ! 

Chorus 

Why  wilt  thou  grieve  at  what  is  past  and  done  ? 
These  things  can  never  be  but  as  they  are. 

Aias 

O  thou,  who  spy'st  out  all, 
Thou  son  of  Lartios,  tool  for  all  things  vile, 
Of  all  the  host  to  shame  the  meanest  thrall, 
For  joy  of  heart,  I  trow,  thou  now  wilt  smile. 
238 


AI  AS 

Chorus 
It  is  through  God  we  all  or  smile  or  wail. 

Alas 

Ah !  might  I  see  him  near, 
Sore  vexed  though  I  be  with  grief  and  fear.  .  .  . 

Chorus 

Hush  thy  rash  speech.     What !     See'st  not  where  thou 
art? 

Alas 

O  Zeus,  my  father's  God  !     Ah  would  that  I, 

Might  on  that  scoundrel  foe 
And  those  two  kings  my  vengeance  work,  and  die 

Myself  by  that  same  blow  ! 

Tecmessa 

When  this  thou  prayest,  pray  for  my  death  too. 
Why  should  I  care  for  life  when  thou  art  dead  ? 

Aias 
STROPHE  III 

O  dark  that  art  my  light  ! 
O  gloom  that  art  to  me  supremely  bright ! 

Oh,  take  me,  I  entreat, 
Take  me  to  dwell  with  you  ;  I  am  not  meet 

To  look  to  Heaven's  high  race 

For  any  helping  grace, 
Nor  yet  to  men  whose  brief  days  swiftly  fleet. 

But  She,  the  mighty  One, 

Daughter  of  Zeus  on  high, 

With  shameful  contumely, 

My  life  to  death  hath  done. 


AIAS 

Where,  where  is  room  for  flight  ? 

Or  whither  roam  and  stay  ? 
If  evil  day  still  follows  evil  night, 
And  we  are  hunting  for  a  madman's  prey, 
Then  should  the  whole  host,  hurling  thrice  strong  spear, 

Smite  me  and  slay  me  here. 

Tecmessa 

Ah  misery  !     That  one  so  brave  and  good 
Should  say  the  things  he  never  dared  before  ! 

Aias 
ANTISTROPHE  III 

O  ye  paths  of  the  waves  ! 
Grove  on  the  shore,  and  sea-encompassed  caves ! 

Long  time  ye  held  me  bound, 
Imprisoned  long,  too  long,  on  Troi'a's  ground, 

But  now  no  longer — no, 

As  long  as  life  shall  flow  ; 
This  let  him  know  with  whom  is  wisdom  found ; 

And  ye,  O  streams,  that  glide, 

Scamandros,  murmuring  near, 

Friend  to  the  Argives  dear, 

No  longer  at  your  side 

Shall  ye  this  hero  see, 

Of  whom  I  dare  proclaim, 
Though  great  the  boast,  that  of  all  Hellenes  he 
To  Troi'a  came  of  mightiest  name  and  fame ; 
But  now,  disgraced  and  whelmed  with  infamy, 

All  helpless  here  I  lie. 

596-645 
STROPHE  I 

O  glorious  Salamis ! 
Thou  dwellest  where  the  salt  waves  hurl  their  sprays, 

Crowned  with  all  brightest  bliss, 
And  all  men  own  thee  worthy  of  great  praise; 


AIAS 

And  I  (ah,  wretched  me  ! 
The  time  is  long  since  I  abandoned  thee) 

In  Ida  staying  still, 

Or  when  the  frost  was  chill, 
Or  when  the  grass  was  green  upon  the  hill, 
Through  all  the  long,  long  months  innumerable,. 

Here,  worn  with  sorrow,  dwell. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

And  Aias  with  us  still, 
Stays  as  fresh  foe,  and  difficult  to  heal, 

Dwelling  with  frenzied  ill ; 
Whom  thou  of  old  did'st  send  with  sword  of  steel, 

Mighty  in  strife  of  war  ; 
And  now,  in  dreary  loneliness  of  soul, 

To  all  his  friends  around 

Great  sorrow  is  he  found  ; 
And  deeds  that  did  in  noblest  good  abound, 
With  Atreus'  sons,  as  deeds  of  foe  to  foe, 

Are  fallen,  fallen  low. 

STROPHE  II 

Now  of  a  truth  outworn 

With  length  of  years, 
In  hoary  age  his  mother  loud  shall  mourn, 

When  she  with  bitter  tears 
Of  that  his  frenzied  mood  shall  hear  the  tale, 

And  weep,  ah,  well-a-day  ! 

Nor  will  she  utter  wail 

Like  mourning  nightingale, 
That  sadly  sings  in  tone  of  mood  distressed  ; 
But  echoing  hands  shall  smite  upon  her  breast, 
And  she,  her  grey  hair  tearing,  shall  lament  alway 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
Far  better  did  he  lie 
In  Hades  drear, 
11  241 


AIAS 

Who  is  sore  vexed,  sore  vexed  with  vanity, 

Who  doth  no  more  appear 
(Though  boasting  high  descent  in  long  array) 
Steadfast  in  temper  true, 
But  wanders  far  astray  ; 
Ah,  father,  dark  the  day  ! 
So  sad  a  tale  awaits  thee  now  to  hear, 
Thy  child's  sore  trouble,  woe  that  none  may  bear, 
Which  until  now  the  sons  of  JEacos  ne'er  knew. 

693-717 
STROPHE 

I  thrill  with  eager  delight, 
And  with  passionate  joy  I  leap  ; 
lo  Pan !  lo  Pan  !  lo  Pan  ! 
Come  over  the  waves  from  the  height 
Of  the  cliffs  of  Kyllene,  where  sweep 
The  storm-blasts  of  snow  in  their  might ! 

Come,  come,  O  King,  at  the  head 
Of  the  dance  of  the  Gods  as  they  tread, 

That  thou,  with  me,  may'st  twine 

The  self-taught  Nysian  line, 

Or  Knossian  dance  divine  ! 

Right  well  I  now  may  dance  : 

And  o'er  Icarian  wave, 

Coming  with  will  to  save, 
May  Delos'  King,  Apollo,  gloriously  advance ! 

ANTISTROPHE 

Yes,  the  dark  sorrow  and  pain, 

Far  from  me  Ares  hath  set  ; 

lo  Pan  !   lo  Pan  !  once  more  ; 

And  now,  O  Zeus,  yet  again 
May  our  swift-sailing  vessels  be  met 
By  the  dawn  with  clear  light  in  its  train. 
242 


AIAS 

Our  Aias  from  woe  is  released, 
And  the  wrath  of  the  Gods  hath  appeased, 
And  now,  with  holiest  care, 
He  offers  reverent  prayer. 
Ah,  great  Time  nought  will  spare  : 
Nought  can  I  count  as  strange, 
Since,  out  of  hopeless  pain, 
Aias  is  calm  again, 
Nor  lets  his  fierce  hot  wrath  against  the  Atreidae  range. 

II85-I22Z 

STROPHE  I 
When  will  they  cease,  the  years, 

The  long,  long  tale  of  years  that  come  and  go, 
Bringing  their  ceaseless  fears, 

The  toils  of  war  that  scatter  woe  on  woe, 

Through  Troia's  champaign  wide, 

Reproach  and  shame  to  all  the  Hellenes'  pride  ? 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Would  that  he  first  had  trod 
The  wide,  vast  Heaven,  or  Hades,  home  of  all, 

Who  erst  the  Hellenes  showed 
The  hateful  strife  where  men  in  conflict  fall ! 

Ah,  woes  that  woes  begat ! 
For  he,  yes  he,  hath  made  men  desolate. 

STROPHE  II 
Yes  he,  e'en  he,  hath  made  it  mine 

To  know  nor  joy  of  flowery  wreaths, 
Nor  deep  cups  flowing  o'er  with  wine, 

Nor  the  sweet  strain  the  soft  flute  breathes 
Nor  yet  (ah,  woe  !  ah,  cursed  spite  !) 
The  joy  that  crowns  the  livelong  night. 

Yes,  he  from  love  and  all  its  joy 

Has  cut  me  off,  ah  me  !   ah  me  ! 


AIAS 


And  here  I  linger  still  in  Troy, 

By  all  uncared  for,  sad  to  see, 
My  hair  still  wet  with  dew  and  rain  ; 
Sad  keepsake  they  from  TroTa's  plain  ! 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
Till  now  from  every  fear  by  night, 

And  bulwark  against  darts  of  foe, 
Aias  stood  forward  in  his  might, 

But  now  the  stern  God  lays  him  low  : 
Ah  me  !  ah  me  !     What  share  have  I, 
Yea  what,  in  mirth  and  revelry? 

Ah  !  would  that  I  my  flight  could  take 

Where  o'er  the  sea  the  dark  crags  frown, 

And  on  the  rocks  the  wild  waves  break, 

And  woods  the  height  of  Sunion  crown, 

That  so  we  might  with  welcome  bless 

Great  Athens  in  her  holiness ! 


PHILOCTETES 

135-218 

Chorus 
STROPHE  I 

WHAT  must  I  say  or  hide,  O  master  dear, 
In  a  strange  land,  myself  a  stranger  here, 

To  one  who  looks  askance 

With  shy,  suspecting  glance  ? 

Ever  his  skill  excels 
The  counsel  and  the  skill  of  other  men, 

With  whom  the  sceptre  dwells 
That  Zeus  bestows  from  heaven  on  those  that  reign. 

And  now  on  thee,  O  boy, 
Comes  all  this  might  of  venerable  days; 

Tell  me  then  what  employ 
Thou  bid'st  me  serve  in,  tending  all  thy  ways. 
Neoptolemos 

Perchance  thou  fain  would'st  know 
Where  he  in  that  remotest  corner  lies : 
Take  courage  then,  and  hither  turn  thine  eyes : 
But  when  he  comes,  that  traveller,  with  his  bow 

Waking  our  fear 
Then,  from  this  cavern  drawing  back, 

As  helper  still  be  near, 
And  strive  to  serve  me  so  that  nothing  lack. 

Chorus 

ANTISTHOPHE  I 

Long  since  I  cared  for  what  thou  bid'st  me  care, 
To  work  out  all  that  on  thy  need  may  bear ; 
Mt 


PHILOCTETES 

And  now  I  pray  thec  tell 

Where  he  may  chance  to  dwell — 

What  region  is  his  home  ? 
Not  out  of  season  is  it  this  to  hear, 

Lest  he  should  subtly  come, 
And  unawares  fall  on  me  here  or  there. 

Say  where  does  he  abide, 
What  pathway  does  he  travel  to  and  fro  ? 

Do  his  steps  homeward  glide, 
Or  does  he  tread  the  paths  that  outward  go  ? 

Neoffo/emoj 

Thou  see'st  this  cavern  open  at  each  end, 
With  chambers  in  the  rock. 

C torus 
And  where  is  he,  that  sufferer,  absent  now ; 

Neoftolemoj 

To  me  it  is  full  clear 
That  he  in  search  for  food  his  slow  way  wends, 

Not  far  off  now,  but  near; 
For  so,  the  rumour  runs,  his  life  he  spends, 
With  swift-winged  arrows  smiting  down  his  prey, 

Wretched  and  wretchedly ; 

And  none  to  him  draws  nigh, 
With  power  to  heal,  and  charm  his  grief  away. 

Ckorut 
STROPHE  II 
I  pity  him  in  truth, 

How  he  with  none  to  care  of  all  that  live, 
With  no  face  near  that  he  has  known  in  youth, 
Still  dwells  alone  where  none  may  succour  give, 

Plagued  with  a  plague  full  sore : 
And  as  each  chance  comes  on  him,  evermore 
Wanders  forth  wretchedly, 
246 


PHILOCTETES 

Ah  me,  Low  is 't  he  still  endures  to  live 

In  this  his  misery  f 
O  struggles  that  the  Gods  to  mortals  give ! 

O  miserable  race, 
Of  those  whose  lives  have  failed  to  find  the  middle  place 

ANTISTROPHE  II 

He,  born  of  ancient  sires, 
And  falling  short  of  none  that  went  before, 
Now  lies  bereaved  of  all  that  life  requires, 
In  lonely  grief,  none  near  him  evermore, 

Dwelling  with  dappled  deer, 
Or  rough  and  grisly  beasts,  and  called  to  bear 

Both  pain  and  hunger  still ; 
Bearing  sore  weight  of  overwhelming  ill, 

Evil  that  none  may  heal, 
And  bitter  wailing  cry  that  doth  its  woe  reveal. 

Neoptolemos 

Nought  of  all  this  is  marvellous  to  me, 
For,  if  my  soul  has  any  power  to  see, 
These  sufferings  from  the  ruthless  Chryse  sent 

Come  with  divine  intent ; 

And  all  that  now  he  bears 

With  no  friend's  loving  cares, 

It  needs  must  be  that  still 

It  worketh  a  God's  will, 
That  he  the  darts  of  Gods  invincible 
Should  yet  refrain  from  hurling  against  Troy 

Till  the  full  time  is  come, 

When,  as  by  fated  doom, 

(For  thus  it  is  they  tell,) 
It  shall  be  his  that  city  to  destroy. 

Char.  Hush,  hush,  boy. 

Neop.  What  means  this  ? 

»47 


PHILOCTETES 

Chor.  The  heavy  tread  I  hear, 
As  of  a  man  who  doth  his  sad  life  wear, 

Somewhere,  or  here  or  there, 

It  falls,  I  say,  it  falls 

Upon  the  listening  sense, 
That  moan  of  one  who,  worn  with  anguish,  crawls : 

Those  gasps  of  pain  intense, 
Heard  from  afar,  to  hide  his  anguish  fail, 
The  groans  he  utters  tell  their  own  sad  tale. 

But  now,  boy  .  .  . 

Neop.  What  comes  next  ? 

Cbor.  New  counsels  form  and  try ; 
For  now  the  man  is  not  far  off  but  nigh, 

With  no  soft  whispered  sigh, 

As  shepherd  with  his  reed, 

Who  through  the  meadow  strays ; 
But  he  or  falling  in  sore  stress  of  need, 

Sharp  cry  of  pain  doth  raise  ; 
Or  he  has  seen  our  ship  in  harbour  sail, 
-Strange  sight !  and  comes  in  fear  our  presence  here  to  wail. 

676-728 
STROPHE  I 

I  heard  the  story  old, 
Though  never  was  it  given  me  to  behold, 

How  Cronos'  mighty  son 
Bound  on  the  wheel  that  still  went  whirling  on, 

The  man  who  dared  draw  nigh 
The  holy  marriage-bed  of  Zeus  on  high ; 

But  never  heard  I  tell, 
Or  with  mine  eyes  saw  fate  more  dark  and  fell 

Than  that  which  this  man  bound, 
Though  he  nor  guilty  of  foul  deeds  was  found, 

Nor  yet  of  broken  trust, 
But  still  was  known  as  just  among  the  just ; 
248 


PHILOCTETES 

And  now  he  perisheth 
With  this  unlooked-for,  undeserved  death  : 

And  wonder  fills  my  soul, 
How  he,  still  listening  to  the  surge's  roll, 

Had  strength  his  life  to  bear, 
Life  where  no  moment  came  but  brought  a  tear. 

ANTISTROPHE  I 

Here  where  none  near  him  came, 
Himself  his  only  neighbour,  weak  and  lame, 

None,  in  the  island  born, 
Sharing  his  woe,  to  whom  his  soul  might  mourn, 

With  loud  re-echoing  cry, 
The  gnawing  pains,  the  blood-fraught  misery, — 

Who  might  with  herbs  assuage 
The  gore  that  oozes,  in  its  fevered  rage, 

From  out  his  foot's  sore  wound, 
(Should  that  ill  seize  him,)  from  the  parent  ground 

Still  gathering  what  was  meet ; 
And  now  this  way,  now  that  he  dragged  his  feet, 

Trailing  his  weary  way, 
(Like  children,  who,  their  nurse  being  absent,  stray,) 

Where  any  ease  might  be, 
Whene'er  his  pain  sore-vexing  left  him  free. 

STROPHE  II 

No  food  had  he  from  out  the  sacred  ground, 

Nor  aught  of  all  we  share, 

Keen  workers  as  we  are, 
Only  what  he  with  winged  arrows  found, 

From  his  swift-darting  bow. 

O  soul,  worn  down  with  woe  ! 
That  for  ten  years  ne'er  knew  the  wine-cup's  taste, 

But  turning  still  his  gaze 

Where  the  pool  stagnant  stays, 
Thither  he  aye  his  dreary  pathway  traced. 


PHILOCTETES 

ANTISTROPHE  II 
But  now  since  he  hath  met  with  true-born  son 

Of  men  of  valour,  he 

Shall  rise  up  blest  and  free  : 
One  who,  in  ship  that  o'er  the  sea  had  flown, 

After  long  months  hath  come, 

And  leads  him  to  his  home, 
Where  nymphs  of  Melia  dwell,  and,  bearing  shield, 

The  hero  oft  hath  trod, 

Equal  with  Gods,  a  God, 
Bright  with  Heaven's  fire  o'er  GEta's  lofty  field. 

827-864 
Chorus 

O  sleep,  that  know'st  not  pain  ! 

O  sleep,  that  know'st  not  care  ! 

Would  thou  might'st  come  with  blessed,  balmy  air, 

And  blessing  long  remain, 
And  from  his  eyes  ward  off  the  noon-tide  bl.ize, 
Now  full  upon  him  poured  ; 
Come  as  our  Healer,  Lord  ! 
And  thou,  my  son,  look  well  to  all  thy  ways ; 
What  next  demands  our  thought  ? 
What  now  must  needs  be  wrought? 
Thou  see'st  him  ;  and  I  ask 
Why  we  delay  our  task  ; 
Occasion  that  still  holds  to  counsel  right, 
With  quickest  speed  appears  as  conqueror  in  the  fight. 

Nfopto/emos 

True,  he  indeed  heareth  nought,  but  yet  I  see  that  all  vainly 
We  hunt  after  this   man's   bow,  in  good   ship    sailing 

without  him. 
There   is   the  crown  of  success,  him   the  God  bade  us 

bring  with  us ; 

Sore  shame  were  it  now  with  lies  to  boast  of  a  task   still 
unfinished. 

250 


PHILOCTETES 

Chrus 
ANTISTROPHE 

This,  boy,  will  God  provide, 

But  when  thou  speak'st  again, 
Speak,  boy,  O  speak  in  low  and  whispered  strain  5 

Of  those  so  sorely  tried 
Sleep  is  but  sleepless,  quick  to  glance  and  see ; 

But  look  with  all  thy  skill, 

What  way  to  work  thy  will, 
And  gain  that  prize,  yea  that,  all  secretly. 

Thou  knowest  whose  we  are, 

And  if  his  thoughts  thou  share, 
Then  may  the  men  who  see  with  clearest  eyes, 
Look  out  ahead  for  sore  perplexities. 
EPODE 

Yes,  boy,  'tis  come,  the  hour ; 

Sightless  the  man  lies  there, 

Stretched  as  in  midnight's  power, 

No  friend  or  helper  near, 

(Yea,  sleep  is  sound  and  sweet 

Beneath  the  noontide  heat,) 

And  hath  lost  all  command 

Of  limb,  or  foot,  or  hand, 
But  looks  as  one  to  Hades  drawing  nigh ; 
See  to  it  that  thou  speakest  seasonably  : 

Far  as  I  search  around 
The  toil  that  wakes  no  fear  is  still  the  noblest  found. 

1081-1 169 
Pblloctetes 

P.TFOPHE   I 

O  cave  of  hollow  grot, 

Now  in  the  noontide  hot, 

Now  cold  with  icy  breath, 
I  may  not  then  leave  thee  at  any  time, 
But  thou  must  still  be  with  me  e'en  till  death. 

25' 


PHILOCTETES 

Ah  miserable  me! 

O  dwelling  fullest  known 

Of  pain  and  wailing  moan 

From  me,  ah  misery  ! 
What  now  shall  be  my  daily  lot  of  life  ? 

What  hopes  to  me  remain 

My  daily  food  to  gain  ? 

The  timid  birds  will  fly 

Through  the  wild  breezy  sky; 
For  all  my  strength  is  vanished  utterly. 

Chorus 
Thou,  thou  against  thyself  hast  sentence  passed, 

O  thou  worn  out  and  pained! 
No  spell  of  mightier  Power  is  o'er  thee  cast, 
For  when  thou  mightest  wisdom's  path  have  gained, 

Thou  did'st,  in  wilful  mood. 
Prefer  thine  evil  genius  to  the  good. 

Phihctetes 
ANTISTROPHE  I 

Ah,  worn  with  woe  am  I, 

Worn  out  with  misery, 

Exposed  to  wanton  scorn, 
I  in  the  years  that  come  must  pine  away, 
With  no  man  near  me,  desolate,  forlorn. 

Ah  me,  ah,  woe  is  me  ! 

No  longer  wielding  still, 

In  hands  that  once  were  strong, 
My  swift  darts,  can  1  hunger's  cravings  fill  ? 
But  crafty  speech  of  meaning  dark  and  wrong 

Has  subtly  crept  on  me. 

Oh,  that  I  might  but  see 

The  man  who  planned  this  crime, 

Sharing  for  equal  time 
The  woe  and  pain  that  have  been  mine  so  long ! 


PHILOCTETES 

Crorus 

Fate  was  it,  yea,  'twas  Fate, 
Fate  of  the  Gods,  no  subtlety  of  guile, 

That  brought  thy  captive  state ; 
Turn  then  on  others  all  thy  bitter  hate, 

Thy  curses  hard  and  vile  ; 

I  care  at  least  for  this, 
That  thou  my  proffered  friendship  should'st  not  miss. 

Philoctetes 
STROPHE  II 

Ah  me,  upon  the  shore, 

Where  the  wild  waters  roar, 

He  sits  and  laughs  at  me, 

And  tosseth  in  his  hand 

What  cheered  my  misery, 
What  ne'er  till  now  another  might  command. 

O  bow,  most  dear  to  me, 

Torn  from  these  hands  of  mine, 

If  thou  hast  sense  to  see, 

Thou  lookestpiteously 

At  this  poor  mate  of  thine, 

The  friend  of  Heracles, 
Who  never  more  shall  wield  thee  as  of  old  ; 

And  thou,  foil  ill  at  ease, 
Art  bent  by  hands  of  one  for  mischief  bold, 

All  shameful  deeds  beholding, 

Deeds  of  fierce  wrath  and  hate, 
And  thousand  evils  from  base  thoughts  unfolding, 
Which  none  till  now  had  ever  dared  to  perpetrate. 

Chorus 

It  is  a  man's  true  part, 
Of  what  is  just  to  speak  with  words  of  good  ; 

But,  having  eased  his  heart, 
Not  to  launch  forth  his  speech  of  bitter  mood. 
253 


PHILOCTETES 

He  was  but  one,  urged  on 
By  many  to  their  will, 
And  for  his  friends  hath  won 
A  common  help  against  a  sore  and  pressing  ill. 

Phihctetet 
ANTISTROPHE  II 

O  winged  birds  that  fly 

Through  the  clear,  open  sky, 

O  tribes,  whose  eyes  gleam  bright, 

Of  beasts  that  roam  the  hills, 

No  more  will  ye  in  flight 
Forth  from  my  dwelling  draw  me  at  your  will ; 

For  I  no  more  possess 

The  might  I  had  of  old 

(Ah  me  for  my  distress !) 

In  those  fierce  weapons  bold ; 

But  now,  with  little  care 
This  place  is  guarded  against  dreadest  ill, 

And  none  need  now  beware. 
Come  ye,  'tis  now  your  hour  to  feast  at  will ; 

On  me  your  vengeance  wreaking, 

This  livid  flesh  devour  : 

I  soon  shall  fail ;  for  who,  life's  nurture  seeking, 
Can  lire  on  air,  deprived  of  all  earth's  kind  fields  pour) 

Chorus 

Nay,  by  the  Gods,  if  still 
Aught  can  thy  feeling  quicken  for  a  friend, 

Draw  near,  with  all  good  will, 
To  one  who  fain  his  steps  to  thee  would  bend ; 

But  know,  yea,  know  full  well, 

'Tis  thine  to  end  this  woe. 

Sad  is't  our  ills  to  swell, 
While  they,  in  myriad  forms,  around  us  ever  grow 


PHILOCTETES 

1452-1468 

Philoctetes 

Come,  then,  and  let  us  bid  farewell 
To  this  lone  island  where  I  dwell : 
Farewell,  O  home  that  still  did'st  keep 
Due  vigil  o'er  me  in  my  sleep ; 
Ye  nymphs  by  stream  or  wood  that  roam ; 
Thou  mighty  voice  of  ocean's  foam, 
Where  oftentimes  my  head  was  wet 
With  drivings  of  the  South  wind's  fret; 
And  oft  the  mount  that  Hermes  owns 
Sent  forth  its  answer  to  my  groans, 
The  wailing  loud  as  echo  given 
To  me  by  tempest-storms  sore  driven ; 
And  ye,  O  fountains  clear  and  cool, 
Thou  Lykian  well,  the  wolves'  own  pool — 
We  leave  you,  yea,  we  leave  at  last, 
Though  small  our  hope  in  long  years  past : 
Farewell,  O  plain  of  Lemnos'  isle, 
Around  whose  coasts  the  bright  waves  smile, 
Send  me  with  prosperous  voyage  and  fair 
Where  the  great  Destinies  may  bear, 
Counsel  of  friends,  and  God  supreme  in  Heaven, 
Who  all  this  lot  of  ours  hath  well  and  wisely  given. 


of    Isaac  Pitman  &•  Sons,  Bath,  England. 
o  (2351) 


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